Addendum
by SergeantPixie
Summary: When Dean shows up to ask Sam to help him find their father, he isn't alone. (aka Elena in season one of Supernatural)
1. What I Can't Carry, Bury

**AN: Why hello there, I'm sure you're asking yourself, is this what I think it is? The answer is, yes, this is a multi chapter Deanlena fic, amazing. This is a birthday present for a dear and lovely friend of mine, Belle. Love, I hope you like this, because I've worked my ass off on it;) basic premises: Elena in season one of Supernatural. So obviously it takes place during season one of Supernatural, and less obviously, it takes place two years after the season three finale of TVD, ignoring all events after that. There will be a chapter per episode, with three added that are specifically Elena-centric, because shockingly, she does have her own storyline. Two of her chapters will be flashback chapters that will explain how exactly Elena ended up with the Winchesters. The first one will be chapter two and the next one will be at just about the midpoint of the story.**

 **Obviously, a lot of the dialogue is lifted directly from the show, as this is a direct rewrite of season one, and hopefully my additions will blend well. I hope you enjoy, I'm very excited, and very nervous about this. Without further ado, we shall begin our story.**

 **Addendum**

 _(n.)_

 _A thing to be added; an addition._

 **Chapter One**

 **Pilot**

 **aka**

 **What I Can't Carry, Bury**

"Man, Dean, we were raised like warriors," Sam says, following his brother out into the night. The impala is parked right out front, and shockingly, there's a girl perched on the back hood. Sam stops.

"Uh, hi?" he says uncertainly, all previous arguments momentarily forgotten.

She smiles and lifts a hand to wave. She's roughly the same age as Sam, maybe a year or two younger, and very pretty with long dark hair and sparkling brown eyes.

"Hey," she replies, shooting Dean an amused look. "Did you forget to mention me?" she teases. Dean rolls his eyes, completely unperturbed by her presence.

"I didn't really have an opening," he shoots back dryly. "Get off my car," he adds.

The girl raises her hands in surrender and slips off the car, landing on her feet. She turns to Sam.

"Hi, I'm Elena," she says, holding out her hand. He takes it.

"Sam," he replies, shaking her hand. She nods.

"I know," she replies simply, slipping her hand out of his and tucking it into the back pocket of her jeans.

"So are you two," he gestures between her and Dean, and Elena laughs.

"You laugh every time someone asks us that," Dean accuses, looking slightly grumpy. Elena just grins at him.

"That's because the idea of you with a girlfriend is hilarious," she retorts.

Dean opens his mouth, an offended look on his face, but Elena doesn't give him a chance to continue their playful argument.

"Your dad was friends with my- my father," she stumbles over the last couple of words, but continues. "He took me in after my father died."

Sam frowns.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he mumbles, wondering why his dad would do that. He isn't exactly the paternal type. She shrugs a little like loss is something she's used to.

"I went to pick Elena up from the airport and found out Dad hadn't called her the entire time she was gone," Dean speaks, breaking the awkward silence.

"I was visiting my brother at college," she adds.

"Dad never goes that long without checking up on her, so that's how I figured something was wrong," Dean continues.

Elena nods in agreement.

"It is strange, but I wasn't too worried until Dean said he hadn't heard from him either," Elena says.

"He's in trouble, and I need your help, Sammy," Dean says. "I can't do this without you."

Sam shakes his head, glancing at Elena.

"Yes you can," Sam contradicts. Dean looks away, and shrugs a little.

"Yeah, well I don't want to," Dean replies simply.

Sam sighs, reluctance weighing down his bones. Still, he opens his mouth, and asks the one question he's been trying so hard to force down since Dean had announced that their father had gone M.I.A. on a hunting trip.

"What was he hunting?"

Dean turns to open the trunk, the news articles all prepped and ready to go. Elena hangs back, already privy to the information, and she doesn't feel that it's necessary to include herself in the explanation.

"So when Dad left, why didn't you go with him?" Sam asks, sparing a glance for Elena, wondering how involved she is in the supernatural world.

"I was working my own thing, down in New Orleans," Dean explains.

Sam gives him a skeptical look.

"Dad lets you hunt alone?" Sam asks, his tone almost condescending.

Elena snorts. Dean shoots her a glare before he responds.

"Dude, I'm twenty-six," he says indignantly.

Elena raises an eyebrow, and Dean quickly amends his statement. "I'm not usually alone," he adds.

Sam blinks in surprise at the implications. He looks at Elena.

"You hunt with him?" he questions.

"Sometimes," she replies. "And sometimes I hunt with your dad instead."

Sam stares at her, unsure of how to reply. She's unknowingly just answered his unasked question, not only does she know about the supernatural—which he already assumed—but she's also a hunter. He wonders how she got involved in all of it.

Dean speaks up, cutting off Sam's musings.

"Anyway, I've usually got back-up, but _someone_ ," he looks pointedly at Elena who raises an eyebrow saucily in response, "just had to go visit her brother at college, so I was solo on this one," he finishes.

Elena rolls her eyes, like they've had this argument before.

"It's his first year at college, forgive me if I felt the need to check on my brother and make sure he's settling in," she shot back.

Dean gives her a disbelieving look.

"Admit it, you just don't like New Orleans, you always avoid jobs in New Orleans," he accuses.

Elena shakes her head.

"No I don't," she says flatly. "Aren't you supposed to be explaining John's case to your brother?" she reminds him.

He gives her a look, like the conversation isn't over, but turns back to the folder to show Sam.

Sam, feeling bemused by their bickering, tries to focus on what Dean is telling him. He can't help but wonder if maybe there's more going on between them. Elena had flat out laughed at the idea of them dating, but after only five minutes, Sam can tell there's something there.

"Maybe he was kidnapped?" Sam suggests dryly, referring to the man who'd disappeared, focusing again on the case.

Dean shakes his head and shows him all the other victims. Then Dean brings out his ace in the hole, the voicemail from their dad.

In the voicemail, their father tells Dean he needs him to pick Elena up from the airport because he can't do it, then he rambles cryptically about something happening, ending the voicemail with a warning.

Sam's more focused on the EVP, so he doesn't quite get the significance of the first part until Elena tells him.

"He always picks me up from the airport," she says, and Sam looks at her. "Really, he'd prefer if I didn't go at all, but I have to see my brother."

Dean nods his head. "She's been with us for two years and he's always the one to take her to the airport and the one to pick her up when she gets back," he agrees. "It was weird that he asked me to do it instead, but then Elena said she hadn't heard from him either, and that's how I knew something had to be wrong."

Sam frowns and wonders if there's any delicate way to ask this.

"Why would he be so concerned about you all the time?" he asks. "I mean, needing to know where you are and keeping in contact all the time. That's kind of extreme, even for him," he elaborates.

Dean gets this strange look on his face. Elena looks away from them, and when she speaks, she's speaking to the empty street.

"There are a lot of reasons, believe me, we don't have time to get into them," she finally says. She turns back to look at Dean. "You should show him the EVP recording," she tells him.

Dean still has that stiff look on his face, but he nods. Very abruptly, Sam realizes his question has been swept under the rug with no real explanation.

 _"I can neeever go home."_

The woman's voice is eerie and it sends chills down Sam's spine in a way that's all too familiar. _Like riding a bike_ , Sam thinks ironically. Dean closes the trunk, turning to look at him.

"Been almost two years, never bothered you, never asked you for a thing," Dean says.

 _Two years_ , Sam glances at Elena, that's how long she's been with his father and his brother. Had his father already taken her in the last time he'd talked to his brother?

Dean's looking at him expectantly, and Sam finds that his resolve is non-existent at this point.

"All right, I'll go," he agrees, glancing over at the silent Elena. Her face is unreadable. He looks back at his brother, who looks almost relieved. "I'll help you find him, but I have to get back first thing Monday, just wait here." Sam starts back to his apartment, a list of necessary supplies already entering his head.

Dean gives him a bemused look.

"What's first thing Monday?" he asks.

Sam stops and turns back to look at him, hefting himself to his full height, his chin tilted upward with pride.

"I have an interview," he tells him.

"What a job interview? Skip it," Dean dismisses easily. Elena thumps him in the back of the head and he gives her a nasty look, which she returns with one of her own.

Sam turns to face him fully.

"It's a law school interview," he contradicts. "It's my whole future on a plate."

"Law school?" Dean echoes, an unimpressed look on his face.

"So do we have a deal or not," he asks, ignoring his brother's tone.

Elena cuts in before his brother can make an asinine remark.

"We'll have you back in time," she says, and Sam gives her an appreciative nod, but keeps his eyes on his brother. Dean rolls his eyes but nods in agreement.

Satisfied, Sam turns and heads back inside to get his things and make his excuses for Jess.

"Do you always have to be such an ass?" he hears Elena ask Dean, but the door closes behind him before he can hear his reply.

While he packs, he wonders if he should say something about Elena to Jess, but he can't think of anything to say that doesn't sound completely insane.

 _My brother showed up out of the blue needing my help to find our dad and he has a strange girl with him, and even though they both swear there's nothing going on between them, I'm not sure if I believe them._

Right, because that would sound completely reasonable. So instead he just smiles and reassures her that he'll be back in time for his interview. When she kisses him goodbye he tries not think about those nightmares he's been having about her and ignores the foreboding feeling in his gut.

When he gets outside, Dean's already behind the wheel and Elena's curled up in the backseat, half asleep. Feeling slightly unsure, he steels himself before he throws his bag into the trunk and slips into the front seat.

* * *

They're at a dirty old gas station, and Sam's trying to find something to listen to that doesn't remind him of a bad action movie when Dean comes out offering him junk food for breakfast.

"No thanks," Sam says, shaking his head. Dean shrugs and pulls the gas pump out of the car. Sam can't help but needle Dean about their credit card scams while Elena's still in the store, getting her own breakfast. When Elena comes out of the store a few minutes later, she has two muffins and a cup of coffee, a far more traditional breakfast.

"Lemon poppy seed or blueberry?" she offers Sam, and he takes the blueberry one gratefully. "Good choice." She nods approvingly as she slips back into the backseat. She'd flat out refused when Sam offered to switch with her, pointing out that his legs are much longer than hers.

Sam turns his attention back to his brother.

"I swear man, you gotta update your cassette tape collection," Sam complains.

Elena snorts from the backseat, and Dean tosses her a look.

"Why?" Dean questions, looking genuinely baffled. Elena stifles a giggle, which earns her another look.

"Well for one, they're cassette tapes," Sam starts. "And two, Black Sabbath? Motörhead? Metallica? It's the greatest hits of mullet rock," Sam complains.

Elena makes a noise of agreement, which earns her a third look, but she ignores it.

"House rules, Sammy, driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole," Dean says charmingly.

Elena leans forward, resting her chin on the back of Dean's seat, looking at him.

"Don't you mean pie-hole?" Elena asks innocently, unable to keep her mouth shut any longer. Sam snorts Dean looks back at her, and she gives him a completely innocuous look.

"Are you sassing me, Gilbert?" Dean asks, the serious look on his face ruined by the way his mouth twitches like he wants to smile at her. Sam deduces that Gilbert must be her last name.

She gives him an affronted look, all innocent doe eyes and fluttering lashes.

"No of course not," she says, sounding scandalized, "I wouldn't do anything of the sort," she assures him, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Sam glances between them, amused.

"You're lucky you're pretty," he tells her seriously.

"Right back atcha," she retorts instantly.

Before Dean can reply, Sam cuts in.

"Are you guys always like this?" he asks, amused.

"No," Dean says. "Usually we're much worse."

Elena nods in agreement. "We're on our best behavior because we have company," she adds.

"Dean has good behavior?" Sam asks and Elena laughs.

"Watch it, Sammy," Dean says, pushing in a cassette tape.

"You know, Sammy is a chubby twelve-year-old, it's Sam, okay?" Sam insists, the music starting.

"I'm sorry, I can't hear you, the music's too loud," Dean replies, shooting him a grin. Elena gives Sam a sympathetic look as she settles back into her seat, putting on her seatbelt.

Eventually Sam gets Dean to turn the music down. He makes calls to the local morgue and hospital while Elena and Dean banter like it's their second nature and Sam wonders if they realize what it seems like to an outsider.

"Check it out," Dean says.

Elena and Sam look ahead of them to see a familiar sight—police cars and crime scene tape all converging around a bridge. Dean pulls over to the side of the road.

"Well that was fast," Elena murmurs from the backseat and Sam snorts in agreement.

Dean leans over Sam to get into the glove compartment and pulls out a couple of (fake) federal badges. He grins and hands one over to Sam. He turns briefly to Elena.

"Stay in the car," he tells her, and she rolls her eyes but nods her head anyway.

Sam gives Dean a questioning look. "Why does she have to stay in the car?" he asks.

"We're less memorable without her," he explains. Sam glances back at Elena who shrugs. "It's the legs," Dean adds, and Elena thumps him in the back of the head. He ducks forward, but grins and continues anyway. "And the hair, and the face, and the—"

"I get the point," Sam cuts him off. "She stays in the car, okay."

Dean and Sam get out of the car to approach the situation ahead of them, meanwhile Elena sprawls out across the backseat, her phone in her hand.

"Do you usually leave her out of this part?" Sam asks. Dean shrugs.

"Sometimes. I like to think of it as saving her for the right moment," he says. Sam raises a curious eyebrow, so Dean continues.

"You don't play your aces right up front, you wait for the right moment," Dean explains.

Sam's not exactly sure what he's supposed to say to that, but luckily they've come upon the crime scene, so he's saved from having to reply.

"You fellas had another just like this last month didn't you?" Dean says to the two officers, easily getting into character.

It takes Sam a little longer, but when he opens his mouth to start asking questions, it comes easier than he thought it would. As he listens, he takes note of all the abnormalities, and tucks away small bits of information that wouldn't seem that important to other people—like the girlfriend putting up missing posters downtown.

Dean opens his mouth and the sarcasm is thick enough that Sam honestly wonders how he ever works cases alone. Sam steps on his foot before the words are even completely out of his mouth.

"Thank you for your time, gentlemen," Sam says, leading Dean away from the crime scene before he can say anything else.

When Dean sees that no one is watching him, he thumps Sam in the back of the head with all of Elena's finesse.

"Ow, what was that for?" Sam hisses.

"Why did you have to step on my foot?" Dean counters.

"Why do you have to talk to police like that?" Sam shoots back.

Dean gives him an incredulous look and steps in front of him to stop him.

"Come on," he says with disbelief. "They don't really know what's going on. We're all alone in this," he points out. "I mean if we're gonna find Dad, we've got to get to the bottom of this thing ourselves."

Sam clears his throat, moving his chin slightly to indicate that someone was behind them. Dean turns to see another officer with two men in suits.

"Can I help you boys?" the officer asks.

"No sir, we were just leaving," Dean says. "Agent Mulder, Agent Scully," Dean quips; leading Sam away quickly.

Back in the car, Elena is still sprawled across the backseat, happily texting away on her phone.

"So what'd I miss?" she asks dryly.

"The whole carnival," Dean shoots back.

"Darn, and I could really go for some funnel cake too," she deadpans, and Dean snorts. As he drives away, she sits up, leaning forward.

"Seriously though, what's up?" she asks.

So while they drive into town to find the victim's girlfriend, Dean gives Elena a brief rundown of events on the bridge, with Sam adding in details every once in a while.

In town, it doesn't take them long to find the girlfriend, she's with her friend and a giant stack of Missing posters.

"I bet you that's her," Sam says and Dean nods, they move to head over towards the girl as her friend wanders off, but Elena stops them.

"No offense, but there are times when I _am_ less memorable than either one of you," she tells them. "And this is definitely one of those times."

Dean and Sam stare at her blankly. She sighs and elaborates.

"Two strange men coming up to a girl on the street and interrogating her about her missing boyfriend? That's pretty memorable," she says. Sam starts to see where she's going with this. "But," she continues. "A girl casually running into another girl and expressing her concern for said missing boyfriend, maybe catching up on some of the local gossip? That kind of thing happens every day."

With that, Elena turns, flashing them a smile over her shoulder while she casually walks towards the girlfriend, Amy. She glances at the missing poster, and then says something to the girl. The girl replies, and in no time the two of them are chatting like old friends.

"See Sammy, right moments," Dean says, clapping Sam on the shoulder, grinning proudly at Elena.

Amy looks comfortable with Elena, and the sympathetic, understanding look on Elena's face is perfectly sincere in a way that makes even Sam kinda want to spill his guts to her.

"She's good at this," Sam observes, a touch of awe in his tone.

"People like Elena," Dean replies simply.

"I can see that," Sam says, still watching the two girls.

After a couple of minutes, Elena gently touches Amy's elbow and says something, and then surprisingly, Amy throws her arms around Elena and hugs her tightly. Elena hugs her back and then waves as Amy and her friend walk away.

Sam and Dean make there way over to Elena. Elena turns back to look at Dean, who's standing right behind her. She grins up at him and he smiles back at her.

"So what'd you learn?" he asks her.

She points to a diner across the street.

"I'll tell you once we've ordered," she says and Dean laughs.

He hooks an arm around her neck and steers her across the street towards the diner, Sam trailing after them.

"It was the funnel cake thing, wasn't it?" he asks and she nods.

"I've been hungry ever since," she confesses, and Dean laughs.

Once they're seated, Sam gets his first up close look at how strangers interact with Elena, and it's fascinating. She instantly has the waitress smiling and chatting about her day like they've been friends for years and Elena looks fully invested in the conversation, her face lighting up every time she smiles at the waitress. Elena is more than just personable, she's magnetic, everyone wants to know her, and when given the opportunity, they bask in her attention like she is the sun.

The waitress leans down to tell Elena her favorite dishes on the menu like it's a secret. It's like Dean and Sam aren't even there—normally Dean would be charming the pants off the waitress and Sam would be rolling his eyes like the straight man he was born to be, but this waitress seems to think Elena is the only one at the table. She remembers to take their orders though—barely.

When she's gone, Elena turns to them and leans forward to fill them in on what she and Amy had talked about.

"A hitchhiking ghost who offs the people who give her a ride? That's original," Dean says dryly once Elena is finished. Elena rolls her eyes.

"Well that's the story Amy told me," she replies, shrugging her shoulders.

"We should find the library after this, do some research," Sam suggests. Dean nods reluctantly.

"That's a great idea," Elena agrees, smiling at him. Sam can see why everyone likes her, her smiles are infectious and he can't help but smile back at her.

After they're done with their food, they head off to find the local library and search for information on the hitchhiking ghost.

They hit the jackpot when Sam theorizes that it was a suicide—not a murder. Constance Welch jumped off the bridge they'd just been at earlier that day after her children drowned in the bathtub.

While they wait for it to get dark outside, Sam continues to research, Elena and Dean bantering in the background and occasionally aiding Sam in his search.

When they reach the bridge it's dark out, and Elena hesitates before she steps onto the bridge.

"I don't really do creepy bridges," she tells Dean when he asks what's wrong.

"You scared?" Dean asks, smirking. She glares at him.

"Yes," she replies, but she follows him onto the bridge anyway.

They end up at the side of the bridge, looking down over at the water, and Elena has a vaguely nauseous look on her face.

"So this is where Constance took the swan dive," Dean says, seemingly unaware of Elena's distress. Sam however, has noticed and is about to ask what's wrong when Dean catches his eye and shakes his head, indicating that he shouldn't ask. Figuring that Dean knows Elena better than him, Sam shuts his mouth.

"So you think Dad would've been here?" Sam asks instead. Elena backs away from the edge, putting space between herself and the side of the bridge and the two brothers.

"Well he's chasing the same story, and we're chasing him," Dean replies logically, stepping away from the edge. He heads over to Elena, who looks calm and collected again, he touches his hand briefly to her elbow as if asking a question and she nods in response. Sam marvels at their silent communication for a moment before pressing on.

"Okay, so now what?" he asks.

Dean is looking around the bridge, so his attention is not on Sam when he answers.

"Now we keep digging 'til we find him, it might take a while," he replies.

"Dean, I told you, I've gotta get back by Mon—"

"By Monday," Dean cuts him off, turning around to look at him. "Right, the interview," he says, his voice bordering on contempt. "I forgot," Dean admits. "You're really serious about this, aren't you?" Dean asks, continuing before Sam can reply. "You think you're just gonna become some lawyer? Marry your girl?" Dean says, his voice full of derision.

Sam can see he's itching for a fight, and Dean doesn't seem to care that Elena is standing right there and can hear everything he's saying, so he decides to do the same.

"Maybe, why not?" Sam replies defensively.

"Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean does she know about the things you've done?" Dean asks straightforwardly.

Sam can feel his hackles rising, and he glances over at Elena who has been silent for a long time. She's still looking at Dean, her face soft with understanding and Sam wonders what she knows that he doesn't.

He looks back at his brother, and replies.

"No and she's not ever going to know," he insists, moving closer, losing his cool.

"Well that's healthy," Dean replies sarcastically. "You can pretend all you want, Sammy," Dean continues. "But sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are," he finishes, turning around to walk away.

But Sam is ready for a fight, so he follows after him.

"And who's that?" he asks.

Dean sweeps out his hands, gesturing to himself and the still silent Elena.

"One of us," he says. Sam still can't quite relate the word hunter to the sweet, understanding girl he's only known for a day, but his hackles rise at the comparison between himself and his brother.

"No," he denies forcefully. "I'm not like you, this is not going to be my life," Sam insists.

"You have a responsibility," Dean argues, spitting out the words like he's been holding them back since he broke into Sam's apartment yesterday and attacked him.

"To Dad and his crusade?" Sam counters, and he can see the defensive set of Dean's mouth, always ready to defend their father's choices. Ignoring him, Sam barrels on. "If it weren't for pictures, I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like," he admits.

While they've stopped walking, Elena has wandered in the opposite direction, trying to give them space to have their moment.

"And what difference would it make?" Sam continues. "Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom's gone, and she isn't coming back."

His declaration is too much for Dean, and Sam soon finds himself shoved back and pressed up against the bridge's support beam. Elena moves forward, intervening for the first time.

"Dean," she says, her voice full of gentle reproach. Dean doesn't look over at Elena, never breaking eye contact with his brother.

Finally, he speaks. "Don't talk about her like that," he scolds, his voice surprisingly soft.

He lets go, moving back away from Sam, and Elena moves closer to Dean. He turns, like he's going to say something to her, but Elena's attention is elsewhere, so Dean follows her line of sight.

Noticing their sudden rigid postures, and the way they are both fixated on something further down the bridge, Sam moves closer to them and follows their line of vision. A cold chill slips down his collar to trace a shiver down his spine.

A figure in white stands up on the railing at the side of the bridge, her hair loose and wild around her, her clothes torn. She turns back to look at them, her eyes catching Elena's, and the two girls—one dead, one alive—do not look away from each other for the longest moment. When at last Constance breaks their eye contact, she turns to fall face forward into the river, setting them all running toward her, despite knowing they're decades too late to save her.

All three of them lean over the edge, searching for her.

"Where'd she go?" Sam asks.

"I don't know," Dean replies.

Suddenly they hear the familiar sound of the impala starting. Dean turns almost instinctively, unsure if what he is hearing is real. Elena and Sam follow him. Once they all see the car on, they slowly start to back away.

"What the fuck?" Dean says, summing up everyone's feelings perfectly.

"Who's driving your car?" Sam asks stupidly.

Dean pulls the keys out of his coat pocket in response.

Suddenly the impala starts driving towards them. Sam and Dean turn to run, Dean grabbing Elena's hand to drag her along with them.

"Go, go, go," Dean orders, his hand still clasped tightly with Elena's. The impala is quickly gaining on them, and when Elena veers towards the railing, the other two seem to understand her thought process and vault over after her.

While Elena had neatly flipped herself over the railing and is still holding onto it, toes balanced on the tiny ledge hanging out, and Sam had managed to grab ahold of a bar on his way down, Dean hadn't been quite as lucky.

Sam pulls himself up beside Elena.

"You okay?" he asks her and she nods.

"Yeah, are you?" she replies, slightly breathless. He nods.

"Yeah," he echoes. Together they look over the edge to where Dean is dragging himself out of the river.

"Dean!" Sam calls down to him. "Hey, are you all right?"

Lying on his back, covered in mud, Dean makes the OK sign with his hand.

"I'm super," he replies sarcastically, and Elena starts to giggle. Set off by her laughter, Sam starts to chuckle, until the two of them are clutching the railing—and each other—for dear life while they cackle at the ridiculous sight of Dean covered in mud.

" _SHUT UP_ ," Dean shouts, but they just keep laughing, far too gone to stop now.

While Dean treks his way back up to them, Sam helps Elena back over the railing, the two of them still giggling occasionally.

By the time Dean is back on the bridge with them, they've managed to contain their mirth to nothing but the occasional grin.

Dean looks over his baby, and Sam clears his throat, trying to be nice.

"Car all right?" Sam asks, a laugh threatening in his voice.

"Yeah, whatever she did to it, seems all right now," Dean replies. Elena has her giggling much more under control than Sam, so when she speaks, there is no trace of laughter in her voice.

"That's good," she says. Dean looks over at her, and she gives him her best Bambi look, he shakes his head at her.

"That Constance chick, what a _BITCH_ ," Dean declares, glaring out into the night.

"Well she doesn't want us digging around, that's for sure," Sam says grimly.

Together the two brothers sit on the car, after a moment Sam turns to Dean.

"You smell like a toilet," he informs him, and that sets Elena off again. She laughs so hard she has to sit on the ground, and Sam can't help but laugh a little bit too. Even Dean chuckles a little—mostly because Elena's laugh is infectious, but he still laughs.

After carefully covering the driver's seat in an ancient towel, they set off to find a motel.

Inside Dean slaps down his credit card.

"One room please," he says.

The old man at the desk picks up the card, glancing at the name and then up at the man covered in mud in front of him.

"You guys having a reunion or something?" he asks dryly.

Dean and Sam exchange a look, and Elena steps away from her place by the door, glancing over at Dean.

"What do you mean?" Sam asks.

"That other guy, Burt Aframian, he came in and bought out a room for the whole month," he tells his three eager listeners.

After the man hands over the keys to their room—two queen beds, and Sam doesn't even want to know how sleeping arrangements will work—the three of them head in the direction of 'Burt Aframian's' room.

Dean and Elena stand look out while Sam carefully works the lock over—lock picking another skill that comes back to Sam as naturally as riding a bike. When the lock clicks open, Sam steps inside the room. Once glance around has him grabbing Dean by his collar and dragging him in. Dean grabs Elena's hand just in time to drag her along with him, and Sam shuts the door behind her.

The three of them stare at the sight before them, and it takes Dean and Elena a moment to notice they are still holding hands. Elena lets go first.

The room is papered with photos, newspaper clippings, and pages upon pages of text. There's a salt circle on the floor and an old, half-eaten hamburger by the lamp.

"I don't think he's been here for a couple days at least," Dean says, speaking at last. Sam examines the salt circle, while Elena's attention is already on the papers pinned to the walls.

Sam points out all the safety precautions their father had set up.

"He was worried, trying to keep something from coming in," he theorizes.

Dean has joined Elena in her examination of the walls. They stand on opposite ends of the room, Sam heading over to Dean.

"What do you got here?" Sam asks.

"Centennial Highway victims," Dean replies. "I don't get it," he continues. "I mean, different men, different jobs, ages, ethnicities," Dean rambles, and Sam goes across to where Elena is standing to see what's on the wall in front of her.

"There's always a connection, right? What do these guys have in common?"

Sam looks towards the third wall, following the massive amounts of research his father had painstakingly gone through. Finally he sees the clue that makes everything make sense. In black marker: _woman in white_.

"Dad figured it out," Sam says, admiration clear on his face. Elena has slipped up behind him, understanding dawning on her face. Dean turns to look at them.

"What do you mean?" Dean asks.

"He found the same article we did," Sam explains, gesturing to it.

"Constance Welch, she's a woman in white," Elena concludes.

Dean raises his eyebrow, glancing back at the wall of victims.

"You sly dogs," he accuses knowingly. "All right, so if we're dealing with a woman in white, Dad would've found the corpse and destroyed it," he continues, all business.

"She might have another weakness," Sam suggests.

Dean shakes his head.

"No, Dad would want to make sure. He'd dig her up," Dean insists. "Does it say where she's buried?" he questions, coming over to them.

"No, not that I can tell," Sam says.

Elena shakes her head.

"I haven't found anything," she says.

"If I were Dad, I'd go ask her husband, if he's still alive," Sam advises. Elena nods in agreement.

"All right, why don't you see if you can find an address?" Dean suggests. "I'm gonna go get cleaned up," he continues, heading towards the bathroom, eager to get the dried mud off of him.

Elena has already begun to look through the papers scattered around the room, her movements precise and well practiced.

"Hey Dean?" Sam calls after him. Dean turns back to look at his brother. "What I said earlier about Mom and Dad, I'm sorry," Sam apologizes.

Dean holds up a hand to cuts him off.

"No chick flick moments," Dean insists. "If you want a hug, ask Elena," he says.

Elena looks up from the stack of papers she'd been sorting through and gives him a withering stare, and Dean responds with a blinding grin.

Sam snorts.

"All right, jerk."

"Bitch."

Elena looks back down at her papers, shaking her head and smiling fondly at their antics. Dean heads towards the bathroom to get cleaned up.

Sam laughs a little, glancing over at Elena. He can see the curve of her smile as she looks through the papers. After a moment, her phone rings and she picks it up.

"Hey Jer," she answers, standing up to slip out the door.

Sam watches her go, wondering if 'Jer' is her littler brother she'd been visiting in college. It's such a normal thing to do—visit your little brother at college—but she obviously isn't a normal girl.

Dean had all but called her a hunter during their argument the night before, and yet Sam can't quite see it yet. She'd handled the ghost about as well as they had, and she's obviously great with people, but to Sam she still seems like a nice young girl who should still be in college herself. He can't help but wonder what kind of horrors had brought her into this world.

Why did his father take her in?

In his musings, Sam had been wandering around the room, and he catches glimpse of an old photo of their father and Sam and Dean as kids, Sam can't help but smile a little bit at the memory.

While Elena's outside still on the phone, Sam decides to check his messages, seeing that he has one from Jessica, he listens to it. Feeling slightly guilty, be barely pays attention as Elena slips into the room and Dean heads out to find some food.

Elena also declines Dean's invitation for food; already back to her task of finding Joseph Welch's address.

Outside, there is a sheriff's vehicle, and Dean turns quickly, already dialing Elena's number.

"Yeah?" she answers.

"Gilbert, Five-O, you guys need to take off," he orders. Elena straightens, standing quickly to look over at Sam, who's attention is now solely on her.

"What about you?" she asks worriedly.

"Uh, they kinda spotted me," he admits. "Go find my dad," he orders, hanging up quickly and turning around to face the officers who'd walked up behind him while he was warning Elena and Sam.

"Problem, officers?" Dean questions innocently.

"Where's your partner?" one of them asks, and Dean thanks the heavens that he'd had Elena stay in the car.

"Partner? What—what partner?" Dean asks, playing dumb.

A quick exchange has one of the officers heading off to look for Sam while the other stays to question Dean.

Elena and Sam had been watching the exchange from behind the curtains of the motel room, but seeing the approaching officer, they quickly backed away to plot their escape.

"So, fake U.S. marshal, fake credit cards, you got anything that's real?" the officer questions sarcastically.

Dean opens his mouth, and like every other day of his life, spits out the first sarcastic thing that comes to mind, regardless of the consequences.

"My boobs," he deadpans, grinning like the idiot he is.

Needless to say, he gets cuffed. Still, Elena and Sam had gotten away, so at least there's that.

In the interrogation room, Dean plays it cool with practiced ease, frustrating the officers to no end.

"So, you wanna give us your real name?" the interrogating officer asks dryly.

"I told you, it's Nugent, Ted Nugent," Dean insists.

"I'm not sure you realize just how much trouble you're in here," the officer replies, placing a box full of evidence from John's motel room on the table.

"We talking misdemeanor kind of trouble, or uh, 'squeal like a pig' trouble?" Dean quips, still not taking any of it too seriously.

"You got the faces of ten missing persons taped to your wall," the officer counters. "Along with a whole lot of satanic mumbo jumbo. Boy, you are officially a suspect," the officer informs him.

Dean replies dryly, pointing out that he was too young to actually have committed the first one. He continues to appear relaxed and unconcerned throughout the interrogation until the officer calls him by his real name and slaps down his father's journal.

"I thought that might be your name," the officer says with satisfaction, seeing Dean's interest.

He flips through the book, amazed by the strange content, finally stopping on a page with Dean's name and some random numbers. Then he flips a couple more pages to show another message.

In his father's familiar handwriting, three more words that made Dean more worried than anything else had since he'd picked Elena up at the airport and she'd told him she hadn't heard from his dad in a week.

 _Keep her safe._

The man flips back to the page with his name and the numbers

"Now, you're staying right here until you tell me exactly what the hell that means, and who in the hell 'she' is," the officer demands.

Dean takes a breath and looks up at the officer, ready to do what he does best, lie.

* * *

Elsewhere, Sam and Elena had found the address for Joseph Welch.

"You should go talk to him," Elena says. "I'll take care of Dean," she continues, giving him a sly grin.

Sam raises an eyebrow at her.

"How are you gonna do that?" he asks. She continues to grin.

"Sometimes it's a good thing to be memorable," she says with a shrug.

"Seriously, you go find out what we need to know about Constance, and I'll get your brother out," she says.

Sam nods, still wondering what she had planned.

"Okay," he agrees bemusedly.

She nods her head.

Good," she says simply. She pulls out a prepaid cellphone from her purse.

"Now, how are you at phony phone calls?"

* * *

"I told you, it's my locker combination," Dean insists once again, ignoring the officer's impatience.

When another officer came in to inform the interrogating officer of shots being fired on some road, Dean tries to keep his grin to himself.

Dean soon finds himself handcuffed to the table while the officer takes off to deal with the situation. Dean's just fingering a paperclip when he hears the sound of a man's voice and the distinct _tap. tap. tap._ of boots on the cement floor.

He doesn't hold back his grin at all as Elena comes strolling into the room, her hips swaying, clad in tiny jean shorts that show off her infamous legs. She grins back at him and casually pulls out a key ring from her back pocket.

"He didn't notice you stealing his keys?" Dean questions incredulously.

She shrugs. "He was focused on other things," she replies archly.

"God bless those shorts," Dean mutters as Elena perches on the thin arm of his chair. She gives him a reproachful look that is ruined by the grin on her face. He grins back at her, unrepentant. She grabs his hand, using the key to unlock the handcuffs from his wrists.

She's close enough that he can smell the familiar scent of her skin and her loose hair slips over her shoulder to brush against his neck and then she's moving away from him all too quickly.

He shakes it off, standing up to grab his dad's journal and head for the door. Catching sight of the journal, Elena grabs his wrist, stopping him.

"First of all, we can't go out that way," she points out. "They might not have noticed me waltzing in here, but they sure will notice you waltzing out," she reminds him and he gives a conceding nod.

"Second of all, where did you get that?" she asks, gesturing to the journal in his hands.

"Our friendly neighborhood officers found it in Dad's room," he tells her. He opens it to show her the page pertaining to her. "What exactly does he mean?" he asks.

She starts, looking up from the page like she's coming out of a trance. She shakes her head.

"Not here and not now," she says, he gives her an exasperated look. "Later," she promises. She puts the keys down on the table and gestures toward the window.

"Sam went to see Joseph Welch," she tells him. "We should get going."

Reluctantly, Dean nods, tucking away her promise for later, he puts the journal into his jacket, heading out the window first and turning around to carefully guide Elena through.

Together they make their way across the street. Elena leads Dean over to a beat up old pick-up truck. She slips into the front seat, tossing Dean her phone to call Sam.

"Why exactly did you pick this car?" Dean asks, and Elena opens the sun visor. The keys fall into her lap. "God you're good," he says, his voice full of awe.

"I watched the old man put them there five minutes before I went in to get you," she says with a shrug, starting the car.

While she drives, Dean calls Sam.

"Dad's gone, he left Jericho, I've got his journal," is all Dean has to say before Sam feels the world tilt on its axis.

"He doesn't go anywhere without that thing," Sam replies, feeling slightly dazed.

"He did this time," Dean replies simply.

"What's it say?" Sam requests.

"Same old ex-marine crap," Dean responds, glancing over at Elena. "And something about Elena," he adds.

"What exactly does it say?" Sam questions, his curiosity peaked.

"Coordinates, don't know where to yet though," Dean says. Sam shakes his head even though Dean can't see him.

"No, what did it say about Elena?" he clarifies. Dean glances over at Elena. She's intent on the road, guiding the old rust bucket along the road in the dark.

"'Keep her safe,'" Dean replies. "I don't know what it means yet, Elena hasn't told me," he continues. Elena barely flinches, focusing intently on the road ahead of her.

"I guess we've gotta figure out where those coordinates are located," Sam mutters, still more focused on the Elena part. What does Elena need to be kept safe from?

"Yeah," Dean agrees, his attention also on the girl beside him.

"Dean, what the hell is going on?" Sam finally bursts out, his curiosity over the mystery surrounding Elena and their disappearing father finally getting to him.

Suddenly there is a figure in the road, and Sam slams on the brakes before Dean has a chance to reply.

"Sam, Sam!" Dean calls through the phone.

Elena glances over at him worriedly.

In the backseat of the impala, Constance stares Sam down.

"Take me home," she orders. Sam just stares at her. "Take. Me. Home," she orders again, this time with more force.

"No," Sam replies flatly, his resolve firm. This only seems to enrage her.

Constance locks them in the car, using her ghostly powers to drive them to her house, Sam protesting all the while.

Dean can vaguely hear what's going on through Sam's abandoned phone, and tells Elena to head for the old Welch house. She obeys instantly, pushing the battered old truck well past its limits as they speed toward Sam and his ghostly captor.

At the old Welch house, Sam pleads with the flickering ghost in the backseat.

"Don't do this," he pleads, wondering if ghosts have any sense of right and wrong.

"I can never go home." She speaks as if he hadn't spoken at all, and the heartbreak is clear on her face—but there's another emotion on her face—fear.

"You're scared to go home," Sam says, realizing it even as he speaks.

When he turns around, she is gone, the next second she is beside him, crawling into his lap, desperate and angry.

"Hold me, I'm so cold," she begs, using all the right lines on the wrong guy.

"You can't kill me," Sam states matter of factly. "I'm not unfaithful, I've never been," he informs her.

But Constance doesn't seem to care, she is out for blood, and his is readily available.

"You will be," she whispers in his ear, forcing a kiss on him. Her lips are cold and he is unmoving, refusing to play along with her games.

She disappears just as suddenly as she had appeared. When she reappears again, her fingers are burning holes in his chest, and it's all a blur until Dean shoots a hole through his own car to put a salt round into her. Elena follows close behind him. Constance is determined to have her blood though, and continues to torture him. Sitting up, Sam turns the car on.

"I'm taking you home," Sam quips, driving Dean's precious impala right through the side of the house. Dean and Elena exchange a look, running in after him.

"Sam!" Dean yells.

"Here," Sam calls back.

Elena at his heels, Dean makes his way over to the car.

"Are you okay?" Elena asks. Sam grimaces.

"Can you move?" Dean asks.

"I think so," Sam replies. "Help me," he requests, and Dean reaches a hand in to help him out.

Elena's attention is on the ghost. Constance stares in wondrous terror at the ruin of her home. Smashed, on the floor before her is a family portrait. She picks it up, and the pain on her face is so familiar Elena loses her breath temporarily.

Dean hauls Sam out of the car and turns them to see what Elena is staring at. Constance finally turns her attention back to the three of them, her eyes locked on Elena once again. None of them move, barely breathing. It is a long time before Constance's attention turns over to the brothers. She slams the photograph down, sending a chest of drawers into their legs, effectively pinning the three of them to the side of the impala.

She moves closer, her attention on Dean.

"Take me home," she purrs, repeating her same old lines.

Dean's eyebrows shoot up, Sam and Elena exchange a confused glance.

"Oh sweetheart, I think you're mistaken, I don't have a girlfriend," Dean points out.

Constance arches one delicate eyebrow, glancing over at Elena pointedly and back at Dean with emphasis.

"Oh hell no, even the ghost thinks we're dating!" Dean exclaims, and even then—pinned to a car and seconds from a bloody death at the hands of a ghost, Elena can't help but giggle a little.

"Really?" Dean asks her incredulously.

She shrugs.

"It's still kinda funny," she admits.

"Psycho ghost lady thinks we're dating and wants to murder us, how is that funny?" he hisses back. She rolls her eyes.

"She tried to kill Sam even though he wouldn't take her home, she's clearly going off book, I don't think she cares much about the whole 'in a relationship' thing anymore," she retorts.

"Guys, now is not the time," Sam interrupts.

They return their attention to the angry ghost, but her attention has been stolen from them by the flickering lights that announce the arrival of her own ghosts. The water trickling down the stairs is the first hint.

Dean, Elena, and Sam try their best to stay perfectly still while Constance is confronted by her children that she birthed and murdered.

"You've come home to us, Mommy," they whisper as one and the their audience of three watches in horrified fascination as they embrace her, dragging her away screaming, for her punishment.

Once she's gone, the three of them heave the chest of drawers off of them.

"You okay, Gilbert?" Dean asks, glancing her over.

Elena waves him off.

"I'm fine," she insists. He doesn't look convinced.

"She was like fixated on you or something," he points out. Elena shrugs.

"I don't know why," she says honestly. She turns her attention to Sam.

"Are _you_ okay?" she asks him, obviously concerned about his injuries, he waves her off, already wondering how he's going to explain the five holes in his chest to Jessica.

Dean meanwhile, is examining his baby.

"He's fine," Dean replies. "But if you screwed up my car," Dean says, turning back to look at Sam. "I'll kill you."

Neither Elena nor Sam need to look at his face to know how serious he is.

Elena picks her way through the debris to get a good look at the puddle of water where the three ghosts had been. Following up behind her, Sam takes a good look at her face, and sees that she is pale and thoughtful.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"She couldn't come home," she tells him. He nods.

"Because this is where she drowned her kids," he summarizes.

"She was too afraid to face them," Dean says, through with his examination of his car.

"She could never go home again," Elena says, and then she turns around, a frown on her face.

"I think she knew I can't go home either, that's why she kept staring at me," Elena tells them.

With that, she heads out the drive the borrowed pick up truck back to its previous spot, leaving them stunned.

"Why can't she go home?" Sam asks Dean.

Dean looks at him, his face open and honest.

"I have no idea," he admits. "All I know is, Dad told me to keep her safe."

Dean turns to get into the car and Sam follows him.

Once Elena has dropped off the old man's car and crawled into the backseat of the impala, they head off, eager to get away from Jericho as quickly as they can.

"Okay, here's where Dad went," Sam says. "It's called Black Water Ridge, Colorado," Sam informs Dean as he drives. Elena is passed out in the backseat.

"Sounds charming," Dean quips. "How far?"

"It's about six hundred miles," Sam responds.

Dean considers it.

"If we shag ass, we can make it by morning," he points out. Sam looks over at him; reluctant to burst his bubble, but determined to make it back in time for his interview.

"Dean, um," Sam starts.

"You're not going," Dean states, no question in his voice. Sam shakes his head.

"The interviews in like ten hours, I gotta be there," Sam insists.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Dean shakes it off. "I'll take you home," he says, clearly disappointed.

He glances in the rearview mirror to check on the sleeping Elena, as if to reassure himself she's still there—he isn't alone.

They drive the rest of the way back in silence.

Elena is still asleep when they roll up in front of Sam's building, so he doesn't get to say goodbye, and he finds himself strangely disappointed. Despite only knowing her for a couple of days, he likes her a lot, and already almost considers her a friend. He keeps it to himself, but he's glad Dean has her. Even the best hunters need someone to watch their back.

"Maybe I can meet up with you later, all right?" Sam suggests, wanting to help find their dad, and feeling bad for leaving it the task to Dean.

"Yeah, all right," Dean agrees but Sam can see it's insincere.

"Sam," Dean calls after his retreating figure. Sam turns back to see what he has to say. "You know, the three of us made a hell of a team back there," he says, glancing back at Elena's slumbering form. Her shoulder twitches in a way that's familiar and he can tell she's only moments away from waking up.

Sam smiles a little.

"Yeah," he agrees. Dean drives away and Sam heads into the building.

When he gets inside he sprawls out on the bed, letting out a content sigh.

Back in the impala Elena sits up and stretches, her body still heavy with sleep. In a move that Dean has harassed her about hundreds of times—surprisingly more for her safety than the car's—she climbs over the seat back and into the front seat beside Dean.

She buckles herself in.

"I told you not to do that," Dean scolds halfheartedly.

"You're barely coasting," she points out, her voice scratchy with sleep. He rolls his eyes fondly at her.

He is solemn and quiet in a way that gets under her skin and before she knows what she's doing she's opening her mouth.

"I get where he's coming from, you know," she tells him. Dean glances at her, his question written all over his face.

"I wouldn't have exactly picked this life for myself either," she tells him, her voice gentle.

He tries not to wince, but her admission still stings like a bitch. Before the smarting can set in, Elena opens her mouth again.

"At least the company's good though," she continues lightly, glancing at him from under her lashes.

He can't help but grin at that.

She sighs and leans over, her head on his shoulder, and she's about the close her eyes and succumb to sleep again when they stop at the corner to turn. A flickering of light catches her attention from out of the corner of her eye and she turns to see what it's from.

She sits up suddenly, her attention on the apartment building Sam had just walked into; flames flickering from one of the apartments.

"Dean," Elena says urgently, and he reacts as quickly as he was trained to, following her line of sight and then whipping the car around to get them back to the burning building his brother is in.

He's out of the car and across the lawn in a matter of seconds, ordering Elena to stay put even as he dashes inside after his brother.

With trembling hands, Elena dials 911. After the call is made, Elena stands in the middle of the lawn, cups her hands over her mouth and screams " _ **FIRE!**_ " at the top of her lungs.

When Dean comes bursting out onto the lawn dragging a struggling Sam with him, Elena lets out a shaking sigh of relief and runs over to help Dean wrangle his brother away from the building and toward the car.

Time passes strangely, people come streaming out of the building, emergency vehicles pull up with their screaming sirens, firemen rushing to contain and extinguish the fire.

Sam stops fight them and stares into space. Dean does a quick round, trying to find out if anyone knows what happened. Elena sits next to Sam, quietly offering him support, wisely keeping her mouth shut.

There is only one casualty of the fire, Jessica Moore.

When Dean reaches them, Elena is sitting in the open door of the backseat, and Sam is at the trunk. Dean touches Elena on the knee and she gives him a reassuring smile, he returns it, heading back toward his brother.

He looks at Sam, at a loss for words, and Sam looks back, something defiant in his eyes.

Sam sighs, looks down, and says, "We got work to do."

tbc.

 **AN: Chapter title from Pack It Up by the Pretenders. Thoughts? Comments? Until next time!**

 **xoxo**

 **-Pixie**


	2. Graveyard of Dreams

**AN: Hey look, it's chapter two! This is the first of two flashback chapters, so hopefully this will provide a little clarity (not too much though, the mystery is half the fun!), I know it's not nearly as long as the first one, but rest assured, the next one totally is (it might even be longer!). Hmm, I feel like I should have more to say. Oh yeah! Shout out to Disciple of Stig for very kindly pointing out an error to me, I appreciate you very much. Thanks to the reviewers, hopefully there will be more of you as we continue (but not too many, because I don't do well with too much attention, okay). Anyway, I'm gonna shut up now, and let the story do the talking! Enjoy:)**

 **Addendum**

 _(n.)_

 _A thing to be added; an addition._

 **Chapter Two**

 **2 and a half years earlier**

 **aka**

 **Graveyard of Dreams**

There's something about Elena Gilbert in her mourning weeds that tugs at Dean's heartstrings. Maybe it's the delicate line of her collarbone jutting out from the sleeves of her black dress, so fragile, so easily broken. It could be the way her brother Jeremy hovers protectively close to her, like he's expecting someone to come and steal her—the last of his family—away from him. It's probably the look on her face that gets to him though—the grief and heartbreak sits so heavily on her face, aging her years within the span of a day, and yet she wears it like she knows the feeling all too well.

She's two months shy of her eighteenth birthday and today she's burying her aunt and uncle, only eleven months after burying her parents. She's known so much grief in such a short span of time for someone so young, and he can see how it weighs on her like a physical weight. She handles herself admirably well, all things considered, she could be far more of a mess than she is and Dean can't help but admire her for it.

He keeps his focus on her to ignore how awkward he feels at the funeral. He and his dad are strangers in the small group of mourners. His father was friends with the uncle—John Gilbert. Dean doesn't know much about the situation, just that John Gilbert was Elena's real father, but she was raised by his older brother Grayson and his wife Miranda alongside their biological son Jeremy.

A long time ago, John Winchester promised his friend John Gilbert that if it ever came to be that there was no one else left to do it, he would protect his daughter, Elena. He doesn't know what his dad is supposed to protect Elena from, but it's clear that she is in danger.

In Dean's experience, you don't end up with a graveyard full of dead family members in such a short period of time without some kind of supernatural interference.

His dad had received a call the night before, the conversation was brief and tense, and the next thing Dean knew they were driving to Virginia for the funeral of a man Dean had only met a handful of times.

Dean can't see anything of John Gilbert in his daughter, the man he remembers had light brown hair and blue eyes, where he was fair his daughter is dark, with deep brown eyes, long dark hair, and smooth olive skin. Elena Gilbert is a very pretty girl, behind the grief that has aged her beyond her scant years.

She's the only one who doesn't seem confused by John and Dean's presence, so he assumes her father—uncle—must have told her about them. The other funeral attendees regard them almost warily, and Dean is just as wary of them. It's a small group by all standards, only five of them besides the Gilbert siblings. There are two girls—a tall blonde and a petite black girl—who are obviously friends of Elena, and a boy about the same age as her, and two men, one who looks not much older than Dean himself, and one who looks at least thirty.

There's something about the boy, the younger man, and the tall blonde that set Dean on edge, but he wouldn't count the petite black girl out in a fight either. Still, he can't quite get a read on any of them—he just knows there's more to them than meets the eye. The middle aged man is the easiest to place, Dean doesn't know his name, has never met him before, but he'd bet big that the man is a hunter of some sort. Like recognizes like and all that.

Elena kneels down to place red roses on the graves—fresh and old alike. She stays there, and for a moment Dean wonders if she will be able to stand again. With remarkable strength, she stands, holding her spine punishingly straight, and Dean's admiration turns to awe.

In their line of business, grief is not uncommon, but Elena handles hers with a grace that Dean has never encountered before.

The group seems to be breaking up, the younger man is already halfway across the graveyard, with the boy following after him. The two girls and Jeremy stay huddled close to the man, and Elena turns to look at Dean and his father.

Taking his cue, John moves towards her, Dean trailing after. John holds his hand out for Elena, and she takes it.

"John Winchester, and this is my son Dean," he introduces himself.

When Elena turns to shake Dean's hand it's like she's looking through him.

"I was friends with your father—or should I say uncle?" John gives her a speculative look. She raises an eyebrow.

"John Winchester's friends with John Gilbert?" she replies dryly and Dean actively has to stop himself from laughing. His dad gives her a wry grin in response and she smiles without humor. "I know, he mentioned you, in a letter," she tells him.

"That's good, I was hoping he had, otherwise this was going to be pretty awkward," John says. She nods in agreement.

"Two strange men at an incredibly private funeral, nothing awkward about that," she deadpans, and Dean wonders if she's this funny because this is how she deals with her grief.

His dad doesn't quite know what to do with her dark humor, but Elena seems to intuitively know that, because she gives him an apologetic, grimacing smile.

"Sorry, that was the last one, I promise." She tucks her hair behind her ear, glancing over at the small group of people hovering just out of earshot. For a moment it seems like she and her brother are locked in some kind of silent communication, but then John touches her elbow gently and she turns back to them, breaking their eye contact.

"We should probably go somewhere else, we've got a lot to talk about," he tells her as gently as he can. She nods.

"Of course, we can talk back at the house," she agrees.

She waves over the rest of the group and they all leave the cemetery together, Elena tucked into her brother's side as close as she can get.

It's not far back to the Gilberts' house, Mystic Falls really is a small town. The house is big and white and the only thing that's missing is a white picket fence. It looks like a house straight out of a movie, cookie cutter family in a small town and all. Then Dean remembers that there is no cookie cutter family waiting inside, just two kids with more ghosts than they know what to do with, and he reins in the cynicism.

The two girls seem reluctant to leave Elena alone, so she ushers the Winchesters into her father's old study, away from the rest of the group who have taken up residence in the kitchen. His father had quietly indicated that he only wanted to talk to her—without Jeremy.

Without thinking, she takes the seat behind her father's desk, and the two Winchesters follow her lead and take the two chairs in front of it.

"Do you know why I'm here, Elena?" John asks.

He's leaned forward on his forearms, his expression as open and frank as John Winchester can get, and Dean is mildly surprised at the gentle tone he uses with her. It's kinder even than the one he uses with bereaved widows and terrified witnesses.

She nods uncertainly. She looks impossibly small sitting behind her father's desk, like a little girl playing make believe.

"He said—in his letter—that you're supposed to protect me," she says quietly, a hard look passes over her face and she continues, "But—it's too late. It's already done."

She says it so simply, like it's an irrefutable fact, and Dean wonders for the umpteenth time what exactly she needs protecting from. His dad has been suspiciously tight-lipped about the whole thing.

John doesn't look surprised at her revelation, instead he nods his head.

"I know," he tells her seriously, and Dean can't help but notice the hint of disapproval in his face and tone. "But you have to know, Elena, that wasn't the end," he continues ominously.

She seems to understand whatever he's implying, because her face goes pale.

"It might be done, but it's not over," he warns her. "As long as you are alive, it will never be over," he says grimly.

She swallows harshly, looking down at her hands. After a moment she nods her head, and when she looks back up at him, there is something resigned in her eyes, like an animal backed into a corner that knows there is nowhere left to run.

"I guess I did know that," she admits, her fingers tracing light patterns on the surface of her father's desk. The room is clean, no dust hanging around in the corners, but it's clear that it's unused.

Dean can't help but wonder about the rest of the house—how much of it is like this room. Free of cobwebs, but untouched, almost like a museum of all her ghosts.

"We can protect you," John tells her. Elena snorts.

"No one could before," she says quietly. "If it weren't for John—" she cuts herself off. She takes a breath to steady herself, and then meets John's gaze again.

"What can you do that they couldn't?" she asks. Her jaw clenches with the effort it takes to control her emotions.

"Your father—John—" his father clarifies quickly. "He made the appropriate arrangements for me to be your legal guardian in the event something happened to himself and Jenna." She winces at the sound of her aunt's name, her loss still an open wound. "I know you're almost eighteen," he continues. "But I think it's best for you if you come with us. You'll be safer, away from Mystic Falls."

Dean blinks, but quickly hides his shock, focusing his attention on Elena's reaction instead of asking all the questions he suddenly had for his father. For a long moment Elena simply stares at John, a frozen look of disbelief on her face.

At last she shudders and blinks, opening her mouth.

"Excuse me?" she asks, her voice high and too close to shrill for Dean's comfort.

John remains calm, clearly anticipating this particular reaction.

"It's what's best for you, Elena, you're too easy to find here," he tells her reasonably.

Elena though, is not having any of his reason.

"Mystic Falls is my home, I'm not leaving," she says flatly, glaring at him.

John looks at her for the first time like she is a little girl, and Dean knows instantly that it's a bad move.

"You're in danger Elena—you escaped with your life by the skin of your teeth because John made the ultimate sacrifice—"Elena cuts him off.

"I didn't ask him to do that," she spits harshly, her glare growing even fiercer. "I didn't ask anybody to die for me."

Not for the first time, Dean feels as if he is wildly out of his depth. He has no idea what kind of danger this girl is in, but now he has another piece of the puzzle, albeit a small one. People died for this girl in front of him—probably the ones just buried hours before. Jenna Sommers and John Gilbert.

"You never have to ask the people you love to make those kinds of sacrifices for you," John counters calmly. She glares at him, and to Dean's horror, tears start to spill down her cheeks, but she ignores them, getting to her feet.

"No one had to ask me to die for them either," she tells him, her voice quiet and controlled. Dean could very well be a lamp on the desk, for all either one seems to care for his presence. "But I was ready to do it. I didn't ask them because I'd already made up my mind."

She's seventeen and for whatever reason, she had decided to die. Now she's standing here on the other side of it, a bottomless well of grief and survivor's guilt. Dean can see that his father is pushing too hard and too fast, but he's helpless to stop him.

"I'm not leaving," Elena tells John, her voice full of finality. "This is my home, it's all I have left of them."

Her admission seems to remind her of her anger because suddenly she's full of fight again.

"I'm not leaving," she repeats, and then she walks out of the room.

"Well that went well," Dean mutters sarcastically. John gives him a sharp look and Dean clears his throat nervously. "I just think you were too hard on her," he appeals. "She's young, she's clearly gone through something horrible." Dean gives his father a pointed look, hoping for an explanation, but John just looks at him so he continues. "It just doesn't seem like ordering her around is the best approach." He shrugs.

John sits back down in his chair heavily.

"She doesn't have any other choice Dean," he tells him solemnly. "Her presence is a liability to everyone in this town, and as her guardian I can't just leave her on her own, she's still a minor."

Dean leans forward.

"Why is she a liability to everyone in this town?" he asks, unable to hold back his curiosity any longer.

His dad heaves a sigh and shakes his head.

"You're better off not knowing," he insists and Dean gives him a look. It's the kind of line they feed to bystanders all the time but his father holds firm on this one. "All you need to know is that someone very bad and very old was after her, and if—when they find out she lived, there will be dire consequences," he says grimly. "For her and for the people she cares about," he adds.

Dean frowns, unsatisfied with the small amount of information his father has given him.

"I promised him, I'd protect her," he reminds him. "I can't do that if she's a waiting target."

Dean sighs, but gets to his feet.

"All right," he says.

John raises an eyebrow.

"All right?" he questions.

"All right, I'll talk to her," Dean elaborates.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" John questions dubiously.

"Well your method isn't exactly working," Dean points out.

Reluctantly, John concedes to his point.

"Just, behave, all right?" John orders him.

"Yes sir," Dean promises, following Elena out of the room. When he reaches the kitchen, the tall blonde silently points to the glass doors that lead out to the backyard. He can see Elena's black clad form, and with a nod of thanks to the blonde, he heads out into the backyard.

Her heels are abandoned by the door and she's seated on top of a picnic bench in the furthest corner of the yard, under a magnolia tree in full bloom. Her back is to him, so he tries to make as much noise as he can to avoid startling her.

He climbs up onto the table next of her, a respectable distance between them.

"Your dad's kind of an ass," she tells him, and he snorts a little in surprise.

"He means well," he insists, and she gives him a disbelieving look.

"Really? Because it kind of seems like he's just used to getting his way," she replies flatly.

Dean winces, unable to argue.

"He's just trying to keep his promise to your father," he reminded her gently.

"My uncle," she corrected him quickly. "He was always my uncle to me, no matter what's true," she told him.

Dean nods in understanding.

"Look I know he's not going about it in the right way, but my dad really is just trying to help. He knows you're in a lot of trouble and he's trying to keep his promise," Dean says, hoping to get her to at least see where his dad is coming from.

"I can't just leave, this is my home, those people inside? They might not be my blood, but they are my family," she replies softly. "I understand what your dad's trying to do, and I'm grateful, but what I need is to be here with the people who love me."

He gives a conceding nod; she does have a good point.

"I don't think I'm the one you should be saying this to," Dean tells her gently. She looks over at him. "You should try telling my dad what you just told me," he suggests.

"Yeah, but will he listen?" she asks.

He shrugs. "You can at least try, right?"

She cracks a small smile and nods her head.

"Try? sure I can do that," she agrees. A few tears slip down her face and Dean is reminded that today has been impossibly long for her—even before his dad demanded she leave her home and everyone she has left behind.

"Your dad kinda has sucky timing," Elena says, breaking the silence and Dean has to laugh at that.

"Yeah, I guess so," he agrees. "Today's probably not the day you want to deal with some strange guy demanding you leave your home."

She stifles a laugh that turns into a sob and reflexively she covers her face with her hands, sobbing into her palms.

Feeling uncomfortable, Dean wonders what he should do. He doesn't know her well enough to feel right comforting her, but listening to her muffled sobs is close to agonizing.

"Hey, you're gonna get through this, you know?" he says and it seems to be the right thing to say, because her sobs turn to hiccups and soon she is wiping the tears from her face.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to cry all over you," she apologizes ruefully. Dean shakes his head.

"No apologies necessary, you just went through hell," he tells her firmly. "I get it, believe me, I do," he assures her, thinking of his mom.

She nods her head seriously.

"I know you do," she says. He raises an eyebrow.

"You do?" he questions, bemused. She nods again, giving him a small, sad smile.

"You don't look at me like someone who doesn't understand what I'm going through," she tells him. "None of the cloying sympathy—or the fear of becoming like me," she adds quietly. "You look at me like you understand exactly what I'm going through."

And this time when she looks at him she isn't looking through him, she's looking _into_ him, like she knows all his secrets and all his pain and understands. It's startling, from someone so young.

"Yeah," he agrees softly. "I guess I do know where you're coming from," he says ruefully.

"Well if you're still standing, I guess you must be right," she replies. "I will get through this."

She looks tired and uncertain, but he finds he has enough conviction for both of them.

"Yeah, you will," he tells her with certainty.

She smiles at him, and this time there is nothing weak in her smile—there is still sadness, but it's strong and true, and he grins back at her.

"Thank you, for listening and talking to me," she thanks him. "I think I'm ready to talk to your dad now."

He waves her off. "Any time," he replies. "Although I've got to warn you, it's gonna take a lot to convince my dad to let you stay here, it's hard to change his mind once he's got it all made up about something," he cautions her.

She climbs off the picnic table, turning to stand in front of him.

"Oh believe me, It's not easy to change my mind either," she assures him, and with that, she heads back into the house, gathering her shoes from their place by the door as she walks in.

Dean lets out a small chuckle, shaking his head in wonder. His dad is going to have his hands full with her, beneath the grief that's stuck to her skin like tar; it's obvious she's quite the firecracker.

Steeling himself for the coming battle, he climbs off the picnic bench as well and follows her inside.

* * *

Elena faces down John Winchester with all the defiance she's used before against older—and scarier—opponents.

"I'm not leaving," she tells him flatly, and John feels his impatience flair yet again.

If it were any other situation, he wouldn't be able to help but admire her spirit—but in this case, he needs her to see sense and understand that he's only trying to help.

"You're a seventeen-year-old kid, you can't just expect me to leave you here on your own," he argues, his last line of defense

They've been arguing for something close to an hour, and she's neatly torn down every defense—pointing out that if the monsters wanted her, they would find her no matter where she is.

"I'm not going to put my life on hold for that," she told him firmly.

She's especially determined not to be parted from her little brother, even though John had promised to make arrangements for him.

"I'm not leaving my brother, or my friends, or my school, Mystic Falls is my home, I'm not leaving," she repeats like a mantra.

In the end, the only thing John has to cling to is his constant reminder that he is her legal guardian—for two more months, but it's the closest he has to an ace in the hole. Until her birthday in June, he's responsible for her.

"I don't care," she tells him flatly. "I'm too old to be led around by nose by someone I barely know," she spits. "I'm not leaving, I'd say you'd have to drag me out of here kicking and screaming but that's not even an option because I am not leaving Mystic Falls. My home and the people here are the only things I have left, and I'm not going to leave them, no matter what."

John feels more exhausted arguing with her than doing battle with a five hundred year old ghost or tracking werewolves on a full moon. All of Sam's teenage defiance couldn't have prepared him for the impossible task of dealing with an irate Elena Gilbert. Having made up her mind to stay in Mystic Falls, nothing John can say will change her mind.

"I'm your guardian, and I say you have to come with me," he orders her.

She crosses her arms over her chest, staring him down. "No," she replies simply.

They've been in her father's old study this whole time, everyone else having long since abandoned ship—Dean had stepped out in search of something to eat and asylum away from the arguing duo. In his opinion, John Winchester arguing with Elena Gilbert is the ultimate meeting between an unstoppable force and an immovable object.

"Elena, you staying here is practically a death sentence, what do you think he'll do to you if he finds out you lived?" he tries, appealing to any sense of self-preservation she might have.

"I understand that," she says calmly. "But I'm not going to live my life on the run, that's not the kind of life I want for myself, I've seen what running can do to a person—how twisted it can make them, and I won't do it, I won't do that to myself," she swears.

"Your father entrusted me with your safety, how am I supposed to protect you if you won't let me?" he demands. "You need to be kept safe, John knew that, and he made me swear that if worse came to worst, I would keep you safe when he was no longer able to."

She shakes her head. "John, he didn't know me well enough to know what I need," she argues softly. "What I need, is to be here, in my home, with the people that I love," she insists. "They can keep me safe just as well as you can."

John snorts at her declaration.

"Your monsters? Are you sure keeping you safe is what they really want?" he questions, and the derision is clear in his voice.

Elena glares at him.

"I can see that you share the opinions of my uncle _,_ but yes, my _monsters_ are far more suited to keep me safe than you are," she replies stiffly, her anger palpable.

"You can't trust them," he tells her, shaking his head.

"They've never hurt me, they've proven time and time again that they would gladly lay down their lives for mine," she shoots back flatly. "I'm not going to let some ignorant old guy tell me who I should be friends with, you don't have any say in that."

On and on it goes, arguing in circle to the point where John is almost ready to throw in the towel and leave her to her fate. It's only the legal matter that stops him, he is her guardian, and he can't just leave her there. Finally, a soft knock comes at the door, halting Elena and John's argument. Alaric Saltzman steps into the room.

"I couldn't help but overhear your argument," he begins—and Elena flushes pink, she's the one who raised her voice first, after all. "And I think I have a solution that will satisfy everyone."

John raises an eyebrow. "By all means, tell us," he invites, gesturing Alaric into the empty chair Dean had vacated earlier.

Alaric sits down, glancing over at Elena nervously.

"I hope I'm not overstepping my boundaries or anything," he begins, before diving right into his solution, "But it seems like the main problem is that you are Elena's guardian until she turns eighteen in two months," he summarizes handily. "Since you clearly have no intention of staying here until then, and Elena absolutely will not leave." he glances over at Elena who nods her head decisively. "The best solution is to find someone else to be her—and Jeremy's—temporary guardian until Elena turns eighteen at the end of June," he proposes.

Both Elena and John stare at him for a moment. He sighs.

"Let me be clear with my intentions here, I'm offering to be Elena and Jeremy's guardian until Elena's eighteenth birthday," he says clearly.

"You'd do that for us?" Elena asks, her voice feathery soft.

Alaric turns to look at her, his face softening.

"Of course, Elena," he assures her. "I can see how much it means to you to stay here in your home with Jeremy and all your friends, and I would do anything to ensure that you can," he promises.

Elena gives him a wobbly smile. "Thank you," she says throatily, her emotions getting the better of her.

"Of course," he says again.

Both of them turn back to John who is studying Alaric intently.

"Can I trust you with her safety?" John asks him seriously. "I swore to her father that I would protect her, and I didn't make that promise lightly," he informs Alaric gruffly.

Alaric nods solemnly.

"Yes of course, Elena's safety is incredibly important to me," he assures him.

John sighs. "Well I guess we'll have to stick around for the paperwork."

For the first time, John is greeted with the sight of Elena's blinding grin.

* * *

When the paperwork is done and over with—aided along by their vampire friends—the Winchesters get ready to leave, but only after John extracts a promise from both Alaric and Elena to keep him informed of the going-ons around Mystic Falls, especially pertaining to Elena and her monsters—both friend and foe.

"I mean it, I want to be kept up to date completely," John insists, and when both Alaric and Elena swear they will only one of them lying.

Satisfied that at least Alaric will follow through with his duties, John makes his way to the car. Before they go, Elena stands on her tiptoes and gives Dean a chaste kiss to the cheek, whispering her thanks yet again for comforting her while she cried.

He grins sheepishly at her.

"Hey any time, Gilbert," he promises. She raises an eyebrow.

"I might just take you up on that," she tells him.

He grins and they say their goodbyes. The Winchesters drive away, John hoping that nothing will bring him back to this place ever again, but knowing that sooner or later, the monsters will catch up with that stubborn little girl again.

It only takes them six months before they find themselves back in Mystic Falls, another tragedy weighing down Elena's shoulders.

 **AN: Chapter title is from Graveyard by The Devil Makes Three. Hope ya'll enjoyed it, please review!**

 **xoxo**

 **-Pixie**


	3. Into The Trees With Empty Hands

**AN: ...hi? Yeah. I didn't die. Which is actually amazing, honestly, considering the last two years of my life...anyway. I am back. I can't even...begin to cover all of the reasons for that, erm, extended hiatus, just, life's a bitch, ya know? It's getting back to something much more manageable, but I'll be honest, I hadn't intended to update this story until this summer, but then I realized that, A Lot of things have gone wrong since I stopped updating this story, and frankly I am absolutely superstitious enough to update just because of that, if you had any idea how many giant homework assignments I have due tomorrow, you'd understand. So here I am, appeasing the gods. Enjoy my offering.**

 **Addendum**

 _(n.)_

 _A thing to be added; an addition._

 **Chapter Three**

 **Wendigo**

 **aka**

 **Into the Trees With Empty Hands**

Nightmares are not uncommon in Sam Winchester's life. Knowing about the existence of monsters since he was a small child certainly hadn't helped the matter. But recently, they've become the ruling factor. Bed or car—it doesn't matter where he sleeps, the nightmares always haunt him.

More often than not, they're about her. A nuclear cocktail of guilt and terror and grief, mixing together, showing him all the things he fears.

He stops sleeping—he dozes, loses consciousness for short stretches of time, forcing himself to wake up before he can head into the menacing REM cycle. But he can only stay awake for so long before basic human need for sleep takes over.

This time, he's passed out in the front seat—a hand is reaching out of Jessica's grave to grab him—and a hand thumps him in the shoulder, he jumps up, his head colliding painfully with the impala's roof. He hears Elena's muffled apology—slipped out between guilty giggles—and the sound of the music blaring from the radio before he even opens his eyes.

"I'm so sorry," Elena apologizes again, her voice bubbling with laughter, but still sincere. "It looked like you were having a nightmare, I was just trying to wake you up," she explains.

"It's okay," he says ruefully. "Thanks," he continues awkwardly.

She nods, giving him a sympathetic, understanding smile. He's gotten used to her—but they're still not quite comfortable with each other.

Dean glances over from the driver's seat, a smile hanging from the left side of his mouth, and Sam can tell he wants to laugh but is holding it off with the best of him.

"You okay?" Dean asks, and Sam can hear the double meaning in his words yet again. It's been like that since that night—everything Dean says has another meaning, Dean is asking about the head he just smashed into the roof of his car, and about the nightmare he'd so abruptly been pulled from.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Sam lies. Deny, deny, deny—that's the name of the game.

Dean can't let it go, though.

"Another nightmare?" he asks, since Sam hadn't actually confirmed or denied it when Elena explained her reasoning for waking him up.

Sam just clears his throat, uncomfortable.

Dean considers him for a second, and then—

"You wanna drive?"

Sam starts to chuckle in disbelief, wondering if the world's gone topsy-turvy.

"You never let me drive!" Elena says protests from the backseat.

"How many car accidents have you been in?" Dean asks meaningfully.

"I was only driving during one of them," she defends and he shakes his head.

"Yeah but you've got bad luck when it comes to cars, sorry, 'Lena, I'm not risking my baby," he says with finality. Elena pouts and slumps over in the backseat, a map clutched in her hand. He looks back over at Sam. "Offers still open for you though," he tells him.

Sam stares in disbelief.

"Dean, your whole life, you never once asked me that," Sam reminds him.

"Just thought you might want to, never mind," Dean says, looking slightly uncomfortable.

Sam rolls his eyes, seeing right through him.

"Look, man, you're worried about me, I get it," Sam begins, glancing back at Elena in the rearview mirror. She's abandoned her pouting pose, instead she's looking at him, her face perfectly still, but the empathy is almost overpowering and he has to look away. "Thank you, but I'm perfectly okay," Sam insists, mentally reminding himself not to look at Elena as much—he can still feel the urge to spill his guts to her occasionally and it's disconcerting to say the least.

"Mm-hmm," Dean replies, the disbelief clear on his face.

Fed up, Sam rolls his eyes and sticks his hand over into the backseat, waving it until Elena gets the message and hands over the map. They take turns playing navigator, and it'd been Elena's turn last.

"All right, where are we?" Sam asks, ready to move on from the subject and focus on something else.

"We are just outside Grand Junction," Dean says, beating Elena to it. She crosses her eyes at him in the rearview mirror and he grins back at her.

Sam finds his attention wondering back to his nightmares—and the mystery back in California. Without meaning to, he finds himself switching back to the topic that only moments before he'd been desperate to get away from.

"You know what? Maybe we shouldn't have left Stanford so soon," he says, wavering on the decision yet again.

"Sam, we dug around there for a week, we came up with nothing," Dean says tiredly, reciting the same old arguments.

"He's right, Sam," Elena pipes up from the backseat. "There wasn't anything else we could do there."

"If you want to find the thing that killed Jessica," Dean continues, and Sam cuts him off.

"We gotta find Dad first," he finishes, knowing all the lines by heart at this point.

"Dad disappearing and this thing showing up again after twenty years?" Dean barrels on. "It's no coincidence. Dad'll have answers, he'll know what to do," Dean insists with complete faith.

Elena makes a tiny noise in her throat, not quite a disagreement but definitely not one of agreement. Her relationship with John Winchester has always been a rocky one, so Dean is used to her doubt in him at this point, and ignores it.

"It's weird, man," Sam says, frowning a little. "These coordinates he left us, this Black Water Ridge..."

"Yeah, what about it?" Dean asks.

"There's nothing there," Sam says, his face puzzled. "It's just woods."

He glances back at Elena, a quick darting glance, and then over to Dean.

"Why is he sending us to the middle of nowhere?" he asks.

Neither of them have an answer.

Sam forges on, "And the other message?" he asks, glancing back at Elena, who looks away for the first time, staring out the window. "Why was it so important that he had to write it down?" he asks, still looking at her.

Since the night of the fire, no one has brought up the second message – _keep her safe_ – and Sam finds himself bursting with curiosity.

Dean glances back at Elena in the rearview mirror.

"How 'bout it, Elena, feel like sharing?" he invites her. She purses her lips together, and Sam can practically see their silent conversation. Clearly this is a denial because Dean shakes his head. "I can't protect you if I don't know what I'm supposed to be protecting you against, now can I?" he points out, hoping that she'll finally give him something—anything—more than what he already knows.

Which really isn't much in the first place.

"I don't know why he wrote that," she bursts out, agitated. "Look, you're both better off not knowing," she insists. "The only thing you have to do to keep me safe is keep driving," she says flatly.

Dean and Sam exchange a confused look.

"'Keep driving', that's it? That's all you're gonna give me?" Dean asks in disbelief.

Elena nods firmly.

"Yup," is her only reply.

Dean's hands clench tighter around the steering wheel, and Sam can practically hear his teeth grinding together.

"Okay," he grits out, clearly frustrated.

For a long time, they sit in silence, until finally Sam remembers an exchange between the other two earlier.

"How many car accidents _have_ you been in?" he asks Elena.

Her response is immediate.

"Three, if you don't count the time a ghost set the car on fire with me in the front seat."

Dean and Sam exchange another look, and Dean looks mildly horrified so Sam assumes he didn't know about the ghost setting her car on fire one.

"That totally counts," Dean insists and Sam nods his head fervently.

"Yup, it counts," he agrees.

Elena shrugs.

"Four, then."

* * *

Inside the ranger station at the Lost Creek National Forest, Sam examines maps of the infamous Black Water Ridge, while Dean marvels over the size of a bear with such awe that Elena can't help but giggle in a way that makes Dean nudge her in the calf with his boot reproachfully. She sticks her tongue out at him and Sam ponders for possibly the hundredth time since they showed up on his doorstep over a week ago if they're aware of how they appear to an outsider.

"You folks aren't planning to go out near Black Water Ridge, are ya?" a grizzled old ranger questions, eyeing Elena in her jeans and stylish boots like the idea of her trooping through a forest personally offends him.

The three of them exchange a look.

"Oh no sir, we're environmental study majors from U.C. Boulder, just working on a paper" Sam lies easily.

Elena and Dean smile and nod along like they this isn't the first they've heard of it.

"Recycle man," Dean adds and Elena, having the grace and control to not crack even smile, nods very seriously.

"Bull," the ranger says flatly, instantly seeing through Sam's quickly thrown together story. "You're friends with that Haley girl, right?" he assumes, eyeing Elena in particular again.

Another quick exchange of glances and the three of them are nodding.

"What gave us away?" Elena asks, sounding convincingly sheepish.

Dean follows suit quickly, the two of them as in sync as ever.

"Yes," Dean agrees. "Yes we are, Ranger…" Dean looks at his shirt to find his name. "Wilkinson."

The ranger shakes his head. "Well I will tell you exactly what I told her," he says. "Her brother filled out a backcountry permit saying he wouldn't be back from Black Water until the twenty-fourth. So it's not exactly a missing persons, now is it?" the man asks, unknowingly giving them their first lead.

"No I guess not," Elena agrees. "Haley just has a tendency to worry," she says, sounding very much like she does know this Haley girl and how much she worries.

The ranger gives her an understanding smile.

"I'm sure her brother is just fine, she's worrying over nothing," he reassures her.

"I'm sure you're right," Elena agrees but Sam knows from the look on Dean's face that she's lying.

"Well that Haley girl's quite a pistol, huh?" Dean adds as the ranger walks away. Sam glances over at his brother, wondering what he's up to.

The ranger turns back with a look of complete weariness on his face.

"That is putting it mildly," he says with conviction.

"Actually, you know what would help is if I could show her a copy of that backcountry permit," Dean suggests. "You know, so she could see her brother's return date."

Elena nods from beside him like it's the perfect way to get this Haley to stop bugging the ranger.

"He's right, it would definitely help if she could see physical proof," she chimes in, smiling sweetly.

Sam can tell that their ploy has worked just from the look on Ranger Wilkinson's face.

He waits until they're outside to question why.

"What, are you cruising for a hookup or something?" Sam asks Dean, glancing warily at Elena. She doesn't look upset by the suggestion, but Dean is looking at him blankly.

"What do you mean?" he questions, sounding confused.

Sam can't help but feel indignant.

"The coordinates point to Black Water Ridge," Sam reminds him, knowing that Elena is paying attention too. "So what are we waiting for? Let's just go find Dad," Sam insists, his impatience getting the better of him.

"I mean, why even talk to this girl?" Sam bursts out, feeling frustrated.

He's running on very little sleep and the only thing fueling him along is his anger and the thought that their father might have all the answers they need to find the thing that had murdered both his mother and his girlfriend.

"I don't know, maybe we should know what we're walking into before we actually walk into it," Dean points out, for once being the sensible one of the two. Dean gives his brother a searching look, a frown on his face.

"What?" Sam asks defensively.

He feels three seconds from exploding, a feeling he's been having a lot lately, so he doesn't look over at Elena, who is, as ever, standing by his brother. He doesn't have to look at her to know there is understanding on her face. If Sam has learned anything about her in the week and a half that he's known her, it's that Elena always understands.

"Since when are you all 'shoot first, ask questions later', anyway?" Dean asks him, clearly concerned.

Sam stares back at him.

"Since now," he replies bluntly, getting in the car before he can ask any more questions.

"Oh really?" Dean asks to the empty air in front of him, exchanging a telling look with Elena before they both get in the car.

* * *

The backcountry permit gives them an address, and since Sam is still stewing in the front seat, Elena guides them to the Collins' residence.

At the front door, Dean takes point, since Sam is a reluctant participant at best.

"You must be Haley Collins," Dean begins. "I'm Dean, this is Sam and Elena," he says, indicating to the two of them.

Elena flashes the wary looking girl a reassuring smile, and Haley can't help but return it, albeit weakly.

"We're rangers with the park service, Ranger Wilkinson sent us over," Dean continues.

When Haley gives Elena a doubtful look, Elena chimes in briefly, "I'm a cadet, this is part of my training," she says cheerfully, and Haley looks slightly appeased, but not by much.

"We wanted to ask you some questions about your brother, Tommy," Dean continues.

Haley considers the three of them.

"Let me see some I.D.," she insists.

Dean plays it off well, showing her like it's the most natural thing in the world.

"Come on in," she says after a moment, opening the screen door and allowing the three of them in.

"Thank you," Elena says, ever aware of good manners.

"You're welcome," Haley replies distractedly, catching a glimpse of the impala over her shoulder. "That yours?" She directs the question to Dean, and the pride is evident on his face when he smiles.

"Yeah," Dean says with immodesty.

"Nice car," she says simply.

Elena gives Dean a look—it's nothing more than a flick of her eyebrow, but it seems to communicate legions of information because Dean's returning it with one of his own and it's all so teasing and light that Sam can almost believe that there really isn't anything going on between them—almost.

While they're following Haley in, Elena behind her, Dean next, and Sam at the rear, Dean turns back to mouth 'oh my god,' his face clearly indicating that he finds Haley attractive and it's almost like he didn't just have an entire silent conversation in a matter of seconds with the girl in front of him.

Except of course, inside, Dean and Elena are doing more of their silent communication. Sam decides to take initiative, figuring that the sooner they question Haley the sooner they can get out of there and go find his dad.

"So if Tommy's not due back for a while, how do you know something's wrong?" Sam asks, eager to get it over with.

"He checks in every day by cell," she answers, bringing out food for the teenage boy sitting at the table.

The boy had blushed and looked away when Elena entered the room and is now giving his food all of his attention. This apparently isn't an uncommon reaction to Elena because Dean good-naturedly rolls his eyes.

"He emails photos, stupid little videos, but we haven't heard anything in over three days now," Haley continues.

"Well maybe he can't get cell reception," Sam suggests sensibly. Haley shakes her head.

"He's got a satellite phone too," she informs them, dismissing the idea instantly.

"Could it be he's just having fun and forgot to check in?" Dean says, trying to get a read on the situation.

"He wouldn't do that," the teenage boy insists, speaking to them for the first time.

"Our parents are gone, it's just my two brothers and me," Haley explains.

Elena's face goes soft with empathy in a way that she can't help.

"We all keep pretty close tabs on each other."

Dean and Elena nod in understanding. Sam frowns in consideration.

"Can I see the pictures he sent you?" he asks.

Haley nods. "Yeah."

She leads them over to her laptop. On the computer screen there are pictures of a smiling brown-haired youth, she clicks over to a video and shows them the content.

"Hey Haley," the video starts, and while it seems like nothing is amiss, Sam narrows his eyes at the video.

"Well, we'll find your brother, we're heading out to Black Water Ridge tomorrow, first thing," Dean assures her, but Haley just gives him a challenging look.

"Then maybe I'll see you there," she replies, moving to stand by her brother.

"You're going to look for him," Elena states, not asking, understanding dawning.

"Look, I can't sit around here anymore, so I hired a guide. I'm heading out in the morning, and I'm gonna find Tommy myself," she tells them, and although she is addressing all three of them, her focus is on Elena.

Elena nods a little, clearly understanding her point of view.

"I think I know how you feel," Dean says, clearly on the same wavelength as Elena.

"Hey, you mind forwarding these to me?" Sam requests, still mulling over the contents of the video she'd shown them.

"Sure," Haley agrees readily enough.

* * *

"So, Black Water Ridge doesn't get a lot of traffic, local campers mostly—" Sam starts, pulling out his laptop.

The three of them are in a local dive bar, Elena attracting more than her fair share of attention, as usual, but she seems oblivious to them all. Dean, on the other hand, is not, and shoots off more than a few glares to keep interested parties away from her, and their table.

"But still, this past April, two hikers went missing out there, they were never found," Sam continues.

"Any before that?" Dean asks. A scruffy looking guy starts towards their table, a brave look on his face, and with a roll of his eyes, Dean hooks an ankle around one of the legs of Elena's chair, dragging her closer to him. The scruffy guy veers away from them quickly, Elena completely oblivious to his aborted attempt to talk to her.

When she gives Dean a bemused look, he shoots her an innocent one of his own. "You were too far away to see," he says. She shakes her head at him fondly.

"Were there any more missing campers before that?" Elena asks Sam, trying to get them back on track.

He nods. "Yeah, in 1982, eight different people all vanished within the same year. Authorities said it was a grizzly attack. And again in 1959, and _again,_ before that in 1936—every 23 years, like clockwork."

Sam opens his laptop, the last video Tommy sent already open on the screen.

"Okay, watch this, here's the clincher. I downloaded that guy Tommy's video to the laptop, check this out," he says, clicking through part of the video frame by frame.

Elena cocks her head to the side, curious.

"Do it again," Dean requests. Sam obliges. In the background, outside of Tommy's tent, a large shadow passes across the screen.

"That's three frames, it's a fraction of a second," Sam says. "Whatever that thing is, it can move."

Dean whacks Sam on the arm, startling him.

"I told you something weird was going on," he says.

Elena flicks him in the shoulder.

"Violence isn't necessary," she scolds him; he shoots her a disbelieving look.

"You're one to talk," he retorts. Ever since he moved her chair closer to his, the other bar patrons seemed to have gotten the message, although they still look occasionally, no one else has tried to approach Elena. Dean's mood has dramatically improved as a direct result.

Sam rolls his eyes at their antics, continuing on with his impromptu presentation.

"I got one more thing," he says, handing over a piece of paper to Elena instead of Dean, to indicate his displeasure at being whacked so unceremoniously by his brother. "In '59, one camper survived the supposed grizzly attack. Just a kid, barely crawled out of the woods alive."

Peering over Elena's shoulder at the paper, Dean nods his head.

"Is there a name?" he asks.

Sam smiles.

* * *

They find their survivor in a dark, shoddy old apartment building, and at first he's eager to get rid of them—even Elena—but between the three of them, eventually Mr. Shaw reluctantly opens up about his experience that awful night. His reluctance stems from the usual source—constant disbelief. No one has ever believed him before, so he doesn't see why the three of them would.

"How can you know what we'll believe if you won't tell us what you saw?" Elena asks, gently urging him to tell them.

"Mr. Shaw, what did you see?" Sam asks, his tone as gentle as Elena's.

"Nothing," Mr. Shaw admits at last. "It moved too fast to see. It hid too well," he explains. "I heard it, though. A roar, like no man or animal I ever heard."

"It came at night?" Sam prompts, and Shaw nods fervently. "Got inside your tent?"

"It got inside our _cabin_ ," Mr. Shaw corrects. "I was sleeping in front of the fireplace when it came in. It didn't smash a window or break the door—it unlocked it," he says flatly. "Do you know of a bear that could do something like that?" he demands. "I didn't even wake up until I heard my parents screaming," he continues.

Sam glances sideways at Elena, and her face is full of gut-wrenching empathy.

"It killed them?" Sam asks, focusing back on Mr. Shaw, on anyone but Elena.

"Dragged 'em off into the night," Shaw confirms. "Why it left me alive; I've been asking myself that ever since." He pauses to catch his breath and gulp down his grief. "It did leave me this, though," he says, and then he pulls down the collar of his shirt to reveal a massive claw mark scar that spanned the width of his shoulder and stopped just short of his chest.

"There's something evil in those woods. It was some sort of a demon," he says with conviction, and then goes silent. The silence stretches between the four of them.

"I'm so sorry," Elena says at last. Mr. Shaw looks at her, startled. "You were so young, and you went through something terrible, and you lost people you love, and I'm sorry," she says by way of explanation.

Mr. Shaw gives her an incredulous smile, and then looks over at Sam and Dean.

"If all your cadets are that sincere," he begins, nodding his head over at Elena, "You might actually have the makings of a good park service," he finishes.

Dean nods in agreement. "Oh she's definitely the top of her class," he says amiably.

With that, the three of them say their goodbyes and leave Mr. Shaw. In the hallway, Elena bumps her shoulder into Dean's teasingly and he grins at her good-naturedly.

"You handled that well," Dean says and she shrugs.

"It wasn't so bad," she says softly, and Sam wonders how he's out of the loop this time.

"So it didn't sound like a demon to me?" Elena forges on, switching topics back to the case before Sam discovers their previous topic. Dean nods his head.

"Spirits and demons don't have to unlock doors if they want inside, they just go through the walls," Dean says as they walk down the dark hallway.

"So it's probably something else—something corporeal," Sam concludes.

"'Corporeal'?" Dean questions. "Excuse me, Professor," he says mockingly. Elena's walking behind him and accidentally-on-purpose kicks him in the ankle, which causes him to shoot her an affronted look over his shoulder.

Sam rolls his eyes. "Shut up, so what do you think?"

Dean shrugs. "The claws, the speed that it moves—it could be a Skinwalker, maybe a Black Dog," he suggests. "Whatever we're talking about, we're talking about a creature, and it's _corporeal_ , which means we can kill it."

Sam stops short as Dean's slight, rolling his eyes back into his head so hard that it hurts. Elena and Dean keep walking, and Sam remembers their brief exchange outside of Shaw's door.

Something about what Shaw had told them had affected Elena personally, and whatever it is, Dean knows something about it, and thought Elena handled it well. Sam recalls the gut-wrenching empathy on her face when Shaw told them that he hadn't woken up until he heard his parents' screams, and concludes that maybe it isn't something he wants to know about.

He follows them out into the dark parking lot. Elena's leaned against the side of the impala while Dean opens the trunk, propping it open with a shotgun. He starts packing a duffle full of weapons, methodically adding whatever he thinks might be useful.

Sam can't help but think about Haley and her single-minded determination to find her brother.

"We cannot let that Haley girl go out there," he says. Elena gives him a skeptical look.

"Oh yeah? What are we gonna tell her? That she can't go into the woods because of a big scary monster?" Dean asks. Sam looks at him.

"Yeah," he says simply. The more civilians out there in the woods with them, the longer it will take. Sam just wants to get this over with and be done so they can find their dad and get down to the real business: finding the thing that killed their mom and Jess.

"Her brother's missing, Sam," Elena says, her tone gentle but rebuking.

"She's not just gonna sit this out," Dean says, continuing for her. "Now we go with her, we protect her, and we keep our eyes peeled for our fuzzy predator."

Elena nods in agreement.

Having finished packing the duffle, Dean hoists it out of the trunk.

"Finding Dad's not enough?" Sam asks, impatience welling up inside of him, and he slams the hidden compartment shut, and then he slams the trunk for good measure too. "Now we gotta babysit too?"

Dean turns to look at him, disbelief evident on his face.

"What?" Sam asks defensively.

"Nothing," Dean replies, shaking his head. He throws the duffle at Sam, who catches it reflexively. Dean walks away, towards the front of the car.

"Isn't this what we do?" Elena asks quietly, "We save people, when did that become babysitting?" she asks rhetorically, and then she withdraws too, leaving Sam feeling more ashamed than Dean's non-confrontation.

After a moment he follows them into the car. In the car, Elena's hanging over the front seat, looking at Dean expectantly.

"Why do we have to go to the general store?" he asks.

"We're going out into the woods for an indeterminate amount of time, we need supplies," she says like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

* * *

Sam figures out why Elena picked the general store pretty quickly; it's the closest store around that's still open.

The brothers trail after her into the store, but Elena is all business, she picks up a basket and gets to work. Bottled water, non-perishable foods, bug spray, a first aid kid, basically anything that you might need whilst traipsing through the woods.

"Do we really need all that?" Dean asks, trailing behind her, bemused. She looks back at him.

"Yes," she says flatly.

"We need bug spray?" he questions. She nods gravely.

"If you want to be eaten alive by tiny creepy crawlies, be my guest," she says sweetly.

Sam huffs out a laugh, but nods in agreement.

"Well look at you, little miss Girl Scout," Dean says fondly. She looks back at him again.

"I've been friends with Caroline 'Be Prepared' Forbes since I was six, something was bound to rub off on me," she replies with a shrug.

Dean laughs appreciatively.

"You guys should probably pick out some food too, you know," Elena points out.

Sam nods in agreement and wanders off to look at the store's selection of energy bars. When he finds Elena again, Dean has dumped a bag of peanut M&Ms into the basket.

"Just so you know, I have no plans on helping you carry any of this, Gilbert," Dean says casually. "'Cept the M&Ms of course." He grins at her.

She rolls her eyes. "I didn't ask you to," she replies.

Sam adds his items to the basket, and then holds his hands out, offering to take the almost overflowing basket from her. She gives it to him gratefully.

"I'll help you carry it, Elena," Sam says. She smiles at him.

"Thank you, Sam," she says, sticking her tongue out at Dean, who retaliates. Smiling and shaking her head, she wanders off to see if there's anything else in the store they might need.

"God, you're such a suck-up," Dean says once she's out of earshot, shaking his head.

"Shut up, she's like half my size, I'd feel bad if I let her carry everything," Sam says, shrugging his shoulders.

"We're not going to be out there that long, Sammy, she's just over-preparing," Dean says, his tone fond and exasperated.

"Maybe she's right to over-prepare," Sam replies.

"Whatever, just don't expect me to help you guys lug this around all day," Dean says dismissively.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Sam says.

* * *

Haley is arguing with their guide about whether or not Ben should go with them when the impala pulls up. Dean, Sam, and Elena emerge one by one, and she regards them warily.

Dean smiles charmingly. "You guys got room for three more?"

Haley blinks. "Wait, you want to come with us?"

"Wait, who are these guys?" Roy asks from behind her.

Haley turns back to answer him.

"Apparently this is all the park service could muster up for the search and rescue," she replies. "No offense, Elena," she adds. "But you are just a cadet."

Elena shrugs good-naturedly. "None taken," she says.

"You're rangers?" Roy asks, surveying Elena speculatively.

Her hair in twin braids, dressed in jean shorts, old chuck taylors and a flannel shirt she "borrowed" from Dean, she's by far the most appropriately dressed for a hike of the three latecomers.

"That's right," Dean says.

Sam hands Elena her backpack and she smiles her thanks at him as she slips on the straps, absentmindedly swatting her braids out of the way. Sam nods back and continues on towards where the trail starts, eager to get this over and done with.

Haley, on the other hand, is more speculative of Dean's apparel than Elena's.

"And you're hiking out in biker boos and jeans?" She raises an eyebrow at him.

He looks at her shorts pointedly.

"Oh sweetheart, I don't do shorts."

Elena moves forward to stand next him.

"She looks better in them than I do," he adds, tugging at one of her braids affectionately.

Elena rolls her eyes at him in amusement.

Haley's eyebrow raises a little higher, they didn't act like he was training her for anything.

Roy, decidedly not charmed by Dean's snark, decides to put his two cents in again.

"Oh, you think this is funny? It's dangerous backcountry out there, her brother might be hurt," he says, canting his head towards Haley.

Cutting in smoothly, Elena heads off whatever alpha male pissing contest was about to start.

"We know that, we're just here to help," she assures him. "We all want to make sure that Haley's brother comes home safely."

Roy looks her up and down speculatively again.

"I'm not sure you do, little girl," he says.

Elena's face does not change, but Dean's does, and for a second, Haley wonders if it was a bad idea to hire Roy. The ranger clearly doesn't like his cadet being talked down to like that.

"She's not a little girl," Dean says, one octave away from calm. "And believe me, we know how dangerous it can be. We just want to help them find their brother, that's all, so I'd appreciate if you didn't talk to my cadet like that."

The smile he gives the other man is a mocking imitation of the action.

It's enough for Roy to back off for now, and he doesn't reply.

* * *

Walking through the woods isn't something Elena's enjoyed much since her eventful junior year of high school, but it's definitely preferable to follow a path in broad daylight as opposed to running (and stumbling) through the underbrush in the pitch-black night. She follows after Dean, who's just behind Roy, with the Collins siblings behind her and Sam bringing up the rear.

As expected, they don't make it very far before Dean decides to strike up a conversation with Roy for his own amusement.

"So, Roy, you said you did a little hunting?" he asks.

"Yeah, more than a little," Roy answers arrogantly.

Dean tosses Elena a sardonic grin over his shoulder and she rolls her eyes at him.

"Uh-huh," Dean says, not even trying to keep the derision out of his voice. "What kind of furry critters do you hunt?"

"Mostly buck, sometimes bear," Roy answers, but this time he's not paying much attention to Dean, focusing instead on their surroundings.

Elena's keeping her eyes on feet because Converse really aren't the most appropriate hiking shoes—but they were best she could do on such short notice—and if she steps into a puddle she's screwed. She notices the glint of metal before it fully registers in her mind. Dean takes another step closer to it.

"Tell me, uh, Bambi or Yogi ever hunt you back?"

Roy doesn't notice it until a couple of seconds after she does, so by the time he does she's already grabbed a fistful of Dean's jacket and hauled him back towards her, throwing her other arm around him to steady them so his superior weight and height doesn't knock them both over.

Dean looks back at her with a question in his eyes but she's doesn't reply, just nods towards where he was about to put his foot down. Roy grabs a stick and slams it down in the area and a bear trap instantly snaps up, breaking it.

"Good eyes, Cadet," Roy says gruffly. "You should watch where you're stepping, Ranger," he adds, addressing Dean.

Dean rolls his eyes in response.

Elena releases Dean, and he looks down at her, giving her a smile and a nod that she returns, once again communicating in their silent, easy way.

It occurs to Sam, that as often as Dean touches Elena, she hardly ever touches him, pulling him out of the way of a bear trap might be the first time he's noticed her initiating contact in the week and a half since he's been with them. He can't imagine the significance of that fact, so instead of pondering it over, he simply files it away with the rest of their weirdness and keeps following the group.

Elena falls back until she's next to Sam and offers him a water bottle. He takes it gratefully.

"Thanks," he says. She nods at him but doesn't speak, content to walk in silence.

Meanwhile, Haley walks faster until she's right behind Dean, agitation clear in her every move.

"You didn't pack any provisions," she starts in on him. "You guys are carrying a duffle bag."

"And a backpack," Dean says defensively. "Elena's pack isn't full of hair care products," he points out. "Her hair actually just naturally looks like that, it's kind of annoying truthfully, you'd think there would be a single second in the day where she doesn't look perfect, but nope."

He stops abruptly, realizing he's ranting a bit.

"You let her carry all of your provisions?" she questions, refusing to let him get her off topic and trying not to think about the gallon of anti-frizz spray and hairspray she used just this morning.

"She likes carrying them," Dean says casually.

Haley doesn't let that deter her. "You're not rangers, so who the hell are you?" she demands, pulling him back to face her.

Dean looks questioningly over her head at Sam and Elena, who are passing behind her, and they both nod their agreement.

"Sam and I are brothers," Dean starts. "And we're looking for our father, he might be here, we don't know. I just figured that you and me, we're in the same boat."

Haley inhales, focuses on the information he left out.

"Elena's your girlfriend?" she asks, trying to determine where she fits into the narrative.

Dean laughs.

"Sorry, she usually does that when people ask us that, I wanted to try it at least once," he explains when Haley gives him a sharp look. "She's a family friend, my dad took her in when her dad died," he says, giving her the abridged version.

Haley nods.

"Why didn't you just tell me that you're looking for your father from the start?" she asks.

"I'm telling you now," Dean says. "Besides," he adds, "it's probably the most honest I've ever been with a woman…ever."

She rolls her eyes and gestures behind him to where the rest of the group had gone.

"What about Elena?" she asks.

"That's different," he says dismissively.

"Why?" she asks, folding her arms expectantly.

Dean sighs. "Because more often than not, my life depends on being honest with her, we depend on each other, you can't lie to the people you depend on."

Haley wonders briefly what exactly he means by his life depending on his honesty with the other girl, but seeing that this is the most she's currently going to get out of him, she lets it slide.

"So, we okay?" Dean asks.

"Yeah, okay," Haley says after a moment.

She gives him a look. "Elena was definitely the most believable ranger out of the three of you," she tells him.

Dean laughs appreciatively but nods in agreement.

"Yeah, well, she's very competent," he admits easily.

Haley arches an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah, very dependable," she replies, stressing the last word, and he laughs again.

"Those provisions are hers, aren't they," she infers easily. "You didn't actually pack any of your own."

He gives her a look of his own. "What do you mean, I didn't pack any of my own?" and with that he pulls a pack of peanut m&ms out of his pocket before he starts to walk away.

She snorts. "I bet she made you pick something out to bring with you," she says knowingly.

He looks back at her, giving her a shameless grin in reply.

She shakes her head and follows after him.

* * *

Once they catch up to the group Elena tosses Dean a water bottle with no comment, and Haley almost wants to laugh again, there's something so refreshingly competent—like Dean said—about the other woman, that Haley can't help but like her, and she suspects that most people feel that way about her for one reason or another.

Even Roy seems to have warmed up to her alone out of the three tagalongs, his respect for her stemming from her attention to detail and her quick actions in saving her companion from stepping on the bear trap.

They hike for a few hours more before Roy slows down, calling back to them, "this is it, Black Water Ridge." He comes to a stop, allowing the others to catch up.

"What coordinates are we at," Sam asks as he passes him.

Roy pulls out his GPS, peering down at the screen before answering, "thirty-five and minus one-eleven."

Everyone else comes to rest near Roy, but Dean and Elena follow Sam until they're just past the group, on the verge of an expanse of woods that is deadly silent.

"You hear that?" Dean asks.

"Yeah," Sam replies, and Elena nods in tandem.

"Not even crickets."

Dean gazes around with a critical eye.

Roy puts his GPS away.

"I'm gonna go take a look around," he says to the group at large.

Dean turns back towards him and the rest of the group, while Elena keeps her eyes on the woods ahead.

Sam glances back at him. "You shouldn't go off by yourself," he says flatly, turning his attention back to the woods, wondering how someone who prides himself on being such a wonderful guide fails to notice the dead silence that envelopes them.

Roy chuckles. "That's sweet," he says mockingly. "Don't worry about me." He raises his shotgun subtly.

"You should listen to him," Elena says softly, but Roy, already walking away, doesn't hear her.

Dean and Sam exchange a look over her head, and then turn back to the Collins'.

"All right, everybody stays together," Dean says, taking charge without hesitation. "Let's go."

He heads in the direction Roy went, intent on keeping him in his sightline.

* * *

Despite his pace, Roy quickly disappears from view, and Dean is reluctant to leave the group behind, so he doesn't speed off in attempt to find him, trusting that Roy can indeed take care of himself—as long as the sun is still in the sky.

The group lingers at a fallen tree, taking in the sights around them.

"Haley, over here," Roy calls from out of view. There is an undercurrent of urgency in his voice that sets her at a running pace and the rest of them follow her.

They come into a clearing where the ravaged remains of a campsite stand.

"Oh my god," she says, unable to hide the anxiety in her voice.

They take in the camp, the bloodstains on the tattered tent.

"Looks like a grizzly," Roy says, having arrived at that conclusion in the time it had taken the group to catch up to him.

The group fans out, taking in the wreckage individually, Dean, Sam, and Elena all looking for signs that the damage was caused by something of the supernatural persuasion.

"Tommy?" Haley says, unable to believe what the evidence – the blood – suggested. Unbuckling her pack, she drops it to the ground, saying his name again, louder this time, as she moves forward, her movements frantic now that she's released from the burden of her pack.

"Tommy!"

Sam moves through the group, having dropped the duffle bag in order to follow after her quickly.

"Shhh! Shhh!" he attempts to quiet her, in case she attracts the wrong kind of attention.

"Why?" she asks, looking over at him standing by her side.

Sam keeps his eyes on the forest in front of them.

"Something might still be out there," he says.

"Sam," Dean's voice rings out, calling him away from the group.

He sees the red and gray fabric of Elena's backpack and climbs over a tree to where she stands behind a crouching Dean.

"The bodies were dragged from the campsite," Dean says in an undertone. "But here, the tracks just vanish. It's weird"

Dean rises, Sammy following his movements, his eyes still on the track marks that vanish, just like he said.

"I tell you what," Dean says, looking at Sam. "It's no Skinwalker or Black Dog."

He turns completely to leave, Elena having stood silently all this time, she looks at Sam, who looks back down at the tracks. When Elena turns to follow Dean, Sam follows after her.

* * *

Elena finds Haley holding her brother's mangled phone, blood on its cracked screen. She sniffles, trying very hard not to cry. Elena crouches down beside her.

"He could still be alive," Elena says softly, and Haley looks over at her. "Don't give up hope," she adds.

Haley looks at Elena, the fake cadet almost ethereally pretty despite waking up at the crack of dawn and hiking for most of the day, and is torn between absolutely gut-wrenching panic and grief, and the tentative hope that Elena offers her.

Before she can reply, or decide one way or the other, they hear a man cry for help in the distance.

In an instance, Roy takes off, shotgun at the ready, Dean pulls out his handgun and follows after him as Elena rises and pivots, chasing after Dean with remarkable speed despite the fact that she's still wearing her backpack, leaving Sam, Haley, and Ben to follow after them. Sam quickly catches up to Roy, but Elena, Haley and Dean aren't much further behind, Haley skidding into the clearing only seconds after Sam and Roy.

The clearing is empty, and the cries for help have ceased, leaving only the ominous silence that has resonated throughout this stretch of woods.

"It seemed like it was coming from around here, didn't it?" Haley says, looking around frantically, searching for a clue as to where the pleading man might be.

The silence stretches on.

"Everybody back to camp," Sam says, an ominous feeling brewing in his gut.

Sam sets his pace at a jog, hurrying back towards the empty camp.

"Our packs!" Haley cries, the aforementioned packs nowhere in sight.

"So much for my GPS and my satellite phone," Roy says wryly.

He turns back to Elena, the only one still carrying a pack.

"I don't suppose you have either of those in your pack?" he asks.

"Those were in the duffle," she says, lying easily.

"Of course," he replies dryly.

"What the hell is going on?" Haley asks, wondering why anyone would lure them away to steal their supplies.

"It's smart, it wants to cut us off so we can't call for help," Sam says, looking over at Dean.

"You mean someone," Roy corrects, "Some nut job out there just stole our gear."

Sam ignores his correction, moving over to where Dean and Elena are, glancing back at the bewildered group.

"I need to speak with you both, in private" he says.

Without a word, they both follow him away from the group to a small clearing out of sight and earshot of the rest of the group.

"Okay, let me see Dad's journal," Sam says, turning to Dean.

Dean pulls it out of his coat pocket, handing it over.

Sam opens it, immediately scanning through the pages for the one he's looking for, finding it quickly.

"All right, check that out," he says, handing over the journal to Dean, Elena looking at it from Dean's elbow.

Dean immediately shakes his head.

"Oh, come on, wendigos are in the Minnesota woods, or Northern Michigan," Dean reminds him. "I've never even heard of one this far west," he adds for good measure.

Elena is silent, remembering when John had gone over wendigos in the course of training her.

Sam looks down.

"Think about it Dean, the claws, the way it can mimic a human voice," he points out evenly.

Dean looks away, unable to deny to the evidence. "Great," he says flatly. "Well, then this is useless," he adds, raising his gun up.

Sam doesn't reply, simply presses the journal into Dean's chest until he grabs it, already heading back to camp. He turns back abruptly.

"We gotta get these people to safety," he says seriously. He marches back to camp, a plan forming in his mind.

Elena and Dean trail after him.

"You remember what those are?" Dean asks.

His dad had covered most of the monster stuff with her, Dean had taken on the more physical aspect of training Elena when it was clear that John had little patience for the smart-mouthed then teen. John could recite the history and identification process of all the monsters in his notebook to Elena while she rode shotgun with him, and for the most part she'd keep her mouth shut and absorb information at a rate that was almost faster than Sam's, but when it came to weaponry and combat Elena couldn't keep her mouth shut and John couldn't be patient with her.

The combination of the two of them together only served to egg the other on, and needless to say, Dean had handled that part of her training, much less averse to her smart mouth than his father.

Elena nods. "Yeah, the cannibals, right?" she says.

Dean nods somewhat grimly.

"The cannibals," he agrees.

Sam marches back into camp.

"All right, listen up, it's time to go," he announces briskly. "Things have gotten…" he trails off, "more complicated," he settles on. Elena and Dean follow up behind him.

"What?" Haley asks, looking between the three of them.

"Kid, don't worry about it, whatever's out there, I think I can handle it," Roy says assuredly.

"It's not me I'm worried about," Sam says dismissively. "If you shoot this thing you're just gonna make it mad," he says, he looks back at Dean and Elena. "We have to leave, now."

Roy, disliking Sam's dismissive tone, argues back.

"One, you're talking nonsense," he starts, "two, you're in no position to give anybody orders," he says, riled at Sam's presumptions.

"Relax," Dean says, cutting him off before he can continue, allowing Sam to jump in.

"We never should've let you come out here in the first place, I'm trying to protect you," Sam says.

Roy takes great offense to that. "You protect me?" he asks incredulously. "I was hunting these woods when your mommy was still kissing you goodnight," he says, getting up into Sam's face, hackled by the fact that a younger man would dare to presume to protect him.

"Yeah?" Sam asks. "It's a damn near perfect hunter." He pauses. "It's smarter than you, and it's gonna hunt you down and eat you alive, unless we get your stupid, sorry ass out of here."

Roy starts to laugh, incredulous and dismissive.

"You know you're crazy, right?" he asks rhetorically.

Sam shakes his head

"Yeah? You ever hunt a we-" Elena moves towards them quickly, cutting Sam off.

"This isn't helping anyone, calm down," she says, looking at Sam warningly, knowing that Roy won't take him seriously no matter what he says.

Dean pushes Sam away from the other man. "Chill out," he says in an undertone.

"Stop it, everyone just stop," Haley demands. They all look at her.

"Look, Tommy might still be alive, and I'm not leaving without him," she says with determination.

Dean looks at her, and then over at his brother and Elena.

"It's getting late," Dean says by way of reply. "This thing is a good hunter in the day, but an unbelievable hunter at night. We'll never beat it – not in the dark," he says, taking Elena's backpack from her without a word, "We need to settle in and protect ourselves." He heads back towards the campsite.

"How?" Haley questions.

* * *

After Dean carves the Anasazi symbols into the loose dirt, explaining what they were for to Haley and the rest of them, he sits down next to Elena and accepts the cold can of cheese ravioli from her. They'd both discovered that they prefer it cold one night when they couldn't find anything to put them in that was microwavable. He gives her a knowing grin, thinking about all nights they'd sat on the floors of motel rooms eating like champions and talking about nothing.

He groans in appreciation at his first bite. Elena giggles and raises her plastic fork to him.

"To being prepared," she says.

"To none microwavable plastic," he adds, clinking his plastic fork against hers.

"God bless Caroline Forbes," he says. She nods in agreement.

They sit in compatible silence, completely unware of the fact that most of their exchange had been incomprehensible to the rest of the group. They're so used to operating in their own little world, barely extending beyond the two of them to John on occasion and now Sam, that it doesn't occur to them that they might as well be speaking another language with all of their unfinished sentences and inside jokes.

Dean finishes his can off, taking the water bottle that Elena offers him, absentmindedly brushing his fingers against one of her braids appreciatively as he stands to go over to where his brother sits, brooding away from the fire.

He sits down beside him, starting without preamble. "You wanna tell me what's going on in that freaky head of yours?"

Sam waves his hand, his wrist still resting on his knee. "Dean," he starts, but he cuts him off quickly.

"No, you're not fine," Dean says. "You're like a powder keg, man. That's not like you." He hesitates, throws in a joke to ease the tension. "I'm supposed to be the belligerent one, remember?"

Sam doesn't look at him, just stares at the same patch of moss on the ground that he's been staring at since he sat down. Knowing that Dean won't leave him alone until he gives him an answer, Sam gives in.

"Dad's not here," he says, voicing what they—Elena included—have known all day now. "I mean, that much we know for sure, right? He would've left us a message, a sign, right?" Sam speaks, barely suppressing the resentment in his voice.

"Yeah, you're probably right," Dean says. "To tell you the truth, I don't think Dad's ever been to Lost Creek," he admits, turning to look at Dean.

Sam looks back over his shoulder at his brother, he turns away abruptly, his impatience getting better of him.

"Then let's get these people back to town, and let's hit the road, go find Dad," he says, frustration leaking further into his tone.

Dean looks back at the group, Haley and Elena quietly conversing, Elena smiling in that slight, calm way she did when she enjoyed the conversation, her eyes searching past Haley to Dean and Sam, and everything surrounding them past the glow of the campfire.

She'd been wary when she left home, always looking over her shoulder, and she's only grown warier since, but time, and training, had made her subtler about it. Eyes always seeking out the next threat, while still being perfectly engaged with whatever is right in front of her.

Sometimes Dean can't tell if he's made her better, with all of his training, passed down from his father, or if she's worse, ruining whatever of the child was left in her when they met at her uncle-father and aunt's funeral.

He remembers this, by the time they came back for her, the child in her was already gone. Like his father did to him and his brother, they honed her, refined her edges, life had already broken her into sharp thing.

"I mean, why are we still even here?" Sammy asks him, so Dean turns away from Elena's ever-seeking gaze.

Dean sighs, gets up, pulling their dad's journal out of his pocket as he sits in front of his brother. He puts his hand on top of the journal, presenting it to Sam.

"This is why, this book," Dean says simply. "This is Dad's single most valuable possession. Everything he knows about every evil thing is in here," Dean reminds him. "And he's passed it onto us. I think he wants us to pick up where he left off—you know, saving people, hunting things, the family business."

Sam shakes his head, not liking where Dean's going with this. He works his jaw for a second, then shakes his head again.

"That makes no sense," Sam says. "Why, why doesn't he just call us? Why doesn't he tell us what he wants, tell us where he is?" Sam asks, trying to make sense of their father's disappearing act and radio silence.

"He did tell us one thing," Dean reminds him, looking over to the campfire.

Sam follows his line of sight to the girl who has remained half a mystery since his brother showed up with her in tow over a week ago.

"We still don't know what we're protecting her from," Sam says, all of the unanswered questions setting his teeth on edge.

Dean doesn't take his eyes off of Elena and Sam wonders if he knows how he looks at her, even know when he knows she's keeping secrets, it's—too close to soft for Sam to feel comfortable with, and he has to look away, back to her, so he can stop feeling like he's invading his brother's privacy just by watching him watch her.

"If Elena says that keeping her safe means that we keep moving, then, for now, we have to believe her," Dean says, after a moment of contemplation. It's a role reversal, Dean with his thoughtful answers, and Sam with his belligerence.

"Do you really think that?" Sam asks, wondering why his brother so easily stepped back from questioning Elena on this topic.

Dean sighs heavily. "I don't know, but we've got nothing else to work with, we just have to hope that she clues us in to what's going on, sooner rather than later."

Dean finally tears his eyes away from Elena to look back at his brother.

"It's not like she's bad company, or a nuisance," he reasons, and it only takes Sam a second to realize that his brother is sousing him out, trying to figure out if he resents being stuck with Elena like he resents being out in the woods with two civilians and an idiot with a gun.

It's clear that Dean cares about Elena a lot, maybe more than he's even willing to admit to himself, and Sam feels almost guilty for ever letting him think that he might not want her around.

"Elena's great, Dean, it's impossible not to like her," Sam says, almost reassuring him. "I just want to know what's going on here."

Dean nods in agreement. "I understand, I've wanted that too for the past two years, Dad never seemed all that intent on telling me though," he admits. "Elena doesn't talk about it at all."

They lapse into silence.

"I don't know what's going on here, Sammy, with Dad or with Elena," Dean admits after a moment. "But the way I see it, Dad's given us a job to do, and I intend to do it."

It's there in his tone, that bullheaded loyalty that Dean has, has always had, to their father, and it's too much for Sam in his conflict, he can't follow on blindly, no answers in sight.

Sam shakes his head. "Dean, no," he says firmly. "I gotta find Dad, I gotta find Jessica's killer," he pauses, fighting for control of the onslaught of emotions that phrase brings up. "It's the only thing I can think about."

Dean nods a little, understanding of the overwhelming grief his brother is feeling. "Okay, all right," he agrees, acknowledging the genuine need behind his statement. "Sam, we'll find them, I promise."

Sam looks at him, unable to shake the comfort that comes from being reassured by someone who has looked after him his whole life.

"Listen to me," Dean starts, winding up for some hard truths. "You've gotta prepare yourself. I mean, this search could take a while. And all that anger? You can't keep it burning over the long haul, it's gonna kill you," Dean says, trying to make Sam understand the gravity of his insistence on stewing in his rage. "You gotta have patience, man."

Sam shakes his head. "How do you do it?" he questions, wondering how Dean, his volatile brother, seems to be handling their Dad's disappearance and radio silence, as well as Elena's refusal to explain anything about her situation to Dean, her partner.

"How does Dad do it?" Sam asks after a moment, wondering how their father had lived with this feeling for twenty-two years when Sam felt like he couldn't live with it for another two seconds.

Dean pauses before answering.

"Well for one, them. I mean, I figure our family's so screwed to hell, maybe we can help some others, it makes things a little more bearable."

Sam watches the two Collins siblings, huddling together, close to the fire, for warmth and for comfort.

Sam wants to ask Dean how bearable Elena makes his life, thinking that even if he could only bring himself to admit that she's his friend, at least he has that, a friend to keep him company, but he doesn't think he'll get a good answer. So instead, he waits for whatever other wisdom his brother has hidden up his sleeve.

"And I'll tell you what else helps," Dean says, pulling Sam's attention back over to him. "Killing as many evil sons of bitches as I possibly can." He adds a little smile at the end and it's by far the most Dean thing he's said since he sat down, and that more than anything is comforting to Sam, enough to make him smile, however briefly.

"Help me," a voice calls from far off into the dark.

Everyone stands to attention immediately, Dean pulling his gun despite knowing it's of no use against a wendigo.

The pleading continues on.

"It's trying to draw us out, stay cool, stay put," Dean reminds everyone.

"Inside the magic circle," Roy says derisively.

"Yes, inside the magic motherfucking circle," Elena says, startling everyone except Dean, who simply grins at her foul-mouthed reply.

Roy looks taken aback, but Elena simply gives him a look of pure steel and Sam finds even less of a reason to doubt her aptitude as a hunter.

The pleading continues, accompanied by a low, menacing growl.

"Okay, that's no grizzly," Roy finally admits.

Haley leads her brother back to the fire, sitting him down beside her. "It's okay, you'll be okay, I promise," she reassures him.

Leaves rustle, circling them.

"It's here," Roy says, and no one misses the anticipation in his voice. He takes a shot at an approximation of where the rustling is coming from, but it's moving too fast to be caught that easily. Undeterred, his fires again and again, and eventually the wendigo emits an agitated noise that suggests contact. "I hit it," he says, already heading outside of the circle.

"Roy, no!" Dean yells after him, trying to stop him from making a fatal mistake. Roy!" Dean yells again, but he doesn't stop. Dean turns back, "Don't move!" he says, pointing back at the terrified siblings, and then he takes off after Roy, Elena and Sam at his heels.

Roy is dead before they can catch up to him.

* * *

Sam sits against a tree stump holding his dad's journal, having eaten a couple of granola bars for breakfast under Elena's careful eye. Absentmindedly he plays with the rosary his Dad used as a bookmark, thinking over what his brother had said the night before.

In camp, Haley tries to make sense of what they had seen and heard the night before. Elena sits cross-legged nearby, re-braiding her hair, despite the rather annoying fact that the slightly mussed looked she'd woken up with had looked perfectly charming on her.

"I don't…" Haley starts, trailing off, trying to find words to express her racing thoughts. "I mean, these types of things—" she tries again, "they aren't supposed to be real." She looks back at Dean.

"I wish I could tell you different," he says, only half of his attention on her.

"How do we know it's not out there watching us?" she asks, appropriately paranoid after the night they'd had.

"The birds," Elena answers. "The birds, the crickets, all that life out there in the woods, when it's near, it stops, it's silent."

Haley considers this. "It was quiet, yesterday?" she says, half questioningly.

Elena nods.

"Dead quiet," Dean says.

Haley shakes her head. "I didn't even think…" she trails off, horrified at her own ignorance.

"You had no reason to," Elena says gently. "You didn't know."

Haley nods faintly. "I didn't know anything." The horror in her statement lost on no one.

Recognizing that Haley could easily start panicking, Dean speaks up.

"We're safe for now, the circle still stands," he says.

Haley looks at him curiously. "How do you know about this stuff?" she asks.

"It kind of runs in the family," Dean says.

Haley looks over at Elena expectantly.

Elena shrugs. "It runs in my family too."

Dean snorts. "Yeah, for a hell of a lot longer."

Haley looks taken aback. "How long?" she asks, genuinely curious about this subculture that she never could've imagined actually existed.

"Uh, since the Civil War, about," Elena says, tying off her second braid, once again perfect looking despite sleeping sitting up, propped back to back with Dean when it was Sam's turn to be on watch.

Sam walks back into camp, greeting everyone with a hurried, "hey," before launching into his plan and cutting off any more questions that Haley might've asked Dean or Elena. "So, we've got half a chance in the daylight, and I, for one, want to kill this evil son of a bitch," he says, echoing his brother's words from the night before.

"Well, hell, you know I'm in," Dean says.

Elena simply points at Dean, her sentiment about them being a package deal left unvoiced, but clearly heard by everyone. When it comes to hunting, Dean and Elena are perfectly synchronized.

Haley and Ben exchange a glance, outnumbered and out of their depth, but desperate to get their brother back – or avenge him if necessary.

Sam opens the journal to the page about wendigos, explaining what exactly they are and how they are created to the ignorant Collins siblings, secure that his dad would've taken Elena through the index backwards and forwards before he ever let her anywhere near a hunt.

Dean and Sam explain how wendigos are born through cannibalism and Elena makes vague disgusted faces to attempt some sort of levity on behalf of both Ben and Haley. All attempts at levity cease when Dean gets to the part where he explains why Tommy could possibly still be alive, wendigos being known to kidnap hikers and hunters and keep them for periods of hibernation.

Having picked through the leftover supplies, Dean had found just what was needed to kill the wendigo.

"Basically, we gotta torch the sucker."

* * *

They walk through the woods, following the claw marks on trees until they realize that once again, the wendigo is playing with them, filling an entire clearing with claw marked trees.

"They were almost too easy to follow," Sam concludes grimly, and then the growling and the hissing and the intimidation starts. From every corner of the forest, all around, surrounding them completely.

Roy's body falls from a tree, Elena dragging Haley out of the way to prevent her from being hit by it, and then they all run again.

Ben trips and falls and Sam and Elena both pause to haul him to his feet and urge him on.

Up ahead, Haley screams.

By the time they reach the place where Haley had screamed, she and Dean are gone, Dean's makeshift Molotov cocktail smashed to bits on the ground.

* * *

"If it keeps its victims alive, why would it kill Roy?" Ben asks Sam, the usually reticent boy finding his voice in the terror of the thought of losing not just his brother but his sister too.

Ben had always been naturally quiet, inheriting none of Tommy's easy charisma and all of Haley's serious quiet. He doesn't mind, not talking, and admittedly, Elena's presence makes it harder to articulate when she just effortlessly looks like she does and seems to know what to do and how everyone feels all the time. But if ever there is a time to remember his words in the presence of a pretty girl, it would be when she's one of the people who has the answers to how to save his brother and now sister.

"Honestly? I think because Roy shot at it, he pissed it off," Sam answers.

Ben's attention turns quickly to Elena when she kneels down, something on the forest floor catching her attention. She holds up a blue m&m for Ben to see, a trail of them leading off into the forest.

"They went this way," Ben says excitedly, moving to follow the trail.

Sam and Elena exchange amused, fond smiles at Dean's ingenuity.

"It's better than breadcrumbs," Sam says and Elena laughs and nods in agreement.

True to his word, Sam had shouldered Elena's backpack that morning, leaving her free to move much quicker than previously, so she easily overtakes Ben and goes back to leading the way, Sam holding up the rear.

Eventually Dean's improved breadcrumb trail leads them to an abandoned mine.

"I feel like we should make a drinking game out of this," Elena muses out loud. "Every time we run into a horror movie cliché on a hunt, we take a shot."

Sam laughs out loud.

"Dean'll love that, but we don't exactly have anything to take a shot of," he points out.

Elena raises an eyebrow at him. "You think there's no alcohol in that backpack?" she nods at the aforementioned pack. "What kind of hunter do you take me for?"

Sam looks at her. "You brought booze on a hunt," he says incredulously.

"I've lived with your brother for two years, what do you think?" she asks rhetorically. "There's a flask in the second pouch," she adds. Without further ado, she slips into the large hole between the rotting planks of wood that once made up the door.

Sam looks at Ben in disbelief. "She brought booze on a hunt."

Ben just smiles at him, even less sure of what to make of Elena than Sam is.

Sam shakes his head, wondering if Dean knows it's in there, or even suspects. He follows Elena into the mine, Ben trailing after him.

Elena stops him to pull out two flashlights from her backpack, handing one to Sam and keeping the other for herself. They descend further into darkness. A dozen or so yards in the wendigo's growl echoes out and Elena and Sam both instantly hit the lights and usher Ben over to the solid walls of the enclosure, peering around anxiously.

For the first time, they see the monster, heading back towards the entrance, and when Ben opens his mouth to exclaim in horror, Elena slaps her hand over his mouth and shushes him, Sam never taking his eye off the retreating monster, waiting to see if it will turn back at the sound.

Once it's out of sight Sam leads them down the tunnel that the wendigo had come out of, theorizing that it most likely leads to where it's keeping its victims, including Dean, and Haley and Tommy.

Instead of a graceful entrance, Sam and Ben fall rather abruptly through some rotting wood into a boneyard, Elena having instinctively leapt back when they began to descend.

She leans down over the hole, careful not to put any weight on the wood.

"Sam? Ben? Are you guys okay?" she calls down in hushed tones.

Ben lurches away from the bones.

"Yeah, we're fine," Sam calls back up, trying to keep his voice down. "I think you'd better come down here though," he adds, catching sight of something to his right.

Elena nods in agreement, and carefully begins to maneuver herself through the hole, Sam standing underneath to grab her by the waist and support most of her weight on her way down in order to prevent any injury. When her feet are on the ground, he points at what had that caught his attention and she follows his line of sight.

Dean and Haley hang from their bound wrists, both unconscious. Now that Elena is safe on the ground, Sam rushes to his brother, Elena following him and Ben making a beeline for Haley.

"Dean," Sam says, lightly shaking him in order to rouse him.

"Wake up," Ben says to Haley.

Elena rushes back to her abandoned backpack, grabbing a pocket knife from one of the pockets and bringing back to Sam, who's mammoth height allows him to cut down both Dean and Haley quite easily.

Sam hands Dean off to Elena so he can help Ben who struggles with Haley. Elena, not bothering with pretenses, lowers both herself and Dean to the ground, looking him over for serious injury as he takes stock of his surroundings and tries not to notice that she still smells amazing even after spending the night on a forest floor.

When Haley starts to cough, Elena points to her backpack, and while Sam can't practically read her mind like Dean seems to, he does know what that means. Inside the largest pocket there are three water bottles left. He hands one off to Ben for Haley and brings the other over to Dean himself.

"You sure you're all right?" Sam asks Dean.

"Yeah, yeah," Dean insists painfully. "Where is it?" he asks.

"It's gone for now," Elena says. Elena shows Ben how to rub feeling back into Haley's hands while she does the same for Dean, but Haley and Ben are quickly distracted by the sight of their brother hanging unconscious just across from them.

Ben helps Haley limp over to Tommy, and Sam follows after them, Elena's pocketknife ready in his hand.

"Tommy," Haley says, half convinced he's already gone, but still, she says his name again and puts her hand on his face, causing him to gasp awake and spook her. Her fear quickly turns to joy and she turns back to Sam.

"Cut him down," she says and Sam quickly complies, helping him gently to the ground where he can reunite with his siblings.

Leaning over Elena's legs, Dean reaches for the nearest abandoned pack behind her, having just noticing the verifiable graveyard of them behind her.

He pulls something out of one, looking up at her with a grin that she returns, and wordlessly she helps him stand.

"Check it out," he says, holding up flare gun in each for everyone to see.

"Flare guns," Sam says. "Those will work." He grins.

Dean spins them in his hands, wordlessly cocky in his usual way, reassuring both Elena and Sam further that he truly is okay.

Dean leads the way out, Elena one step behind him with Sam and the three Collins siblings following behind, Haley and Sam supporting Tommy between them.

The growling of the wendigo alerts them to its return, and Dean, Sam, and Elena position themselves at the ready.

"Looks like someone's home for supper," Dean says grimly.

"We'll never outrun it," Haley points out needlessly.

Dean looks over at her, unable to refute her statement. He then glances back at Elena and in a second they are on the same page, so Dean turns to Sam.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" he asks him.

"Yeah, I think so," Sam replies grimly.

The wendigo growls menacingly.

"All right, listen to me," Dean starts, turning to the Collins'. "Stay with Sam, he's gonna get you out of here."

"What are you gonna do?" Haley asks him.

Dean winks quick as a blink and then takes off in another direction, not a word exchanged as Elena follows behind him.

"It's chow time, you freakin' bastard!" Dean's battle cry echoes throughout the cave, drawing more than enough attention to he and Elena, making it unnecessary for her to say a word. Dean's trash talk continues. "Yeah that's right, bring it on, baby! I taste good!"

A faint noise echoes throughout the cavern.

"Did she just, giggle?" Tommy asks, bewildered by his rescuers.

"Probably," Sam answers. "I'm starting to think she's lived with my brother for too long," he says, not entirely focused on the conversation. He leads them down a tunnel leading away from the direction that Elena and Dean had taken.

* * *

"Hey, you want some white meat, bitch?" Dean yells, both he and Elena keeping their eyes everywhere despite the ridiculous words coming out of his mouth. "I'm right here!"

Dean being loud enough for both of them leaves Elena to have her full attention on their surroundings, and as usual she doesn't disappoint. She nods her head forward, and Dean follows her, still yelling ridiculous taunting things for the wendigo to hear.

* * *

Sam attempts to lead the three siblings back towards the direction he and Ben and Elena had come in from, despite the change of levels. The growling grows louder and louder, and Sam indicates towards the direction they'd come in from.

"Get him out of here," Sam says, intent on luring the wendigo away and hopefully finding Dean and Elena.

"Sam no," Haley protests.

"Go!" Sam barks. "Go."

Ben tugs on Haley's arm, knowing that Sam's idea is their best bet.

"C'mon Haley," he says, and she reluctantly allows him to steer the three of them towards the entrance and away from Sam.

Sam turns back towards where the growling seems to be coming from, if he's closer to the wendigo than Dean and Elena then he'll do his best to kill it and clear the way for them.

It shows up behind him in another classic horror movie cliché – Sam takes a moment to regret that Elena has her backpack and therefore the flask, now would be an excellent time for a drink – he spins away from it, shooting off his flare preemptively, merely stunning it.

Without a weapon, Sam takes advantage of its distraction to sprint after the Collins' hurrying them to the exit. When they get there it is blocked off, unlike the one they came in through, Sam stands in front of them.

"Get behind me," he says, with nothing else to do and nowhere else to run.

The wendigo takes its time on its approach, moving leisurely, giving Dean enough time to arrive, flare gun at the ready.

"Hey!" he shouts, firing as soon as the wendigo turns to him. The wendigo bats its away with lightning quick reflexes, turning its head from the bright light, and right into the flames that Elena, who had fumblingly reached into her bag for their last line of defense – unbeknownst to anyone else but her – has directed at it.

They all watch it burn to death in stunned silence.

Finally, Sam speaks.

"Did you just make a flamethrower out of bug spray and a lighter?" his incredulity is only outweighed by his awe.

Elena sits down heavily.

"Yes, yes, I did," she says matter-of-factly.

Dean, slumped against the wall, smirks over at her.

"Dude, that is so hot," he deadpans.

* * *

They put together a plausible story on the hike back, and once the story has been told, Tommy is safely on his way to a hospital, and Dean gets his unsolicited kiss from the pretty girl – which Elena teases him about mercilessly, much to Sam's surprise – the three of them watch the siblings leave, and Dean, unable to resist levity even at his worse, deadpans again.

"Man, I hate camping."

"Me too," Sam says.

Elena says nothing, simply opens the back door of the impala and flops down across the backseat with a delighted groan like it's a king-sized bed with nine hundred thread count sheets and a mountain of pillows.

Dean nods in agreement with the sentiment before turning to Sam.

"Sam, you know we're gonna find Dad, right?" Dean says.

Sam nods. "Yeah, I know. But in the meantime," he turns to look at his brother, "I'm driving." He smirks.

Dean pulls the keys out of his pocket and tosses them over. Instead of heading for the front seat like Sam expects he goes around to the other back door.

"Move over, Gilbert," he says, and Sam isn't at all surprised when he slides into the driver's seat and looks into the rearview mirror to see Elena passed out against Dean's shoulder, his head propped on top of hers, already halfway to joining her in slumber.

He shakes his head, wondering how long the two of them are gonna torture him with whatever game they're playing.

 **AN: chapter title from in the woods somewhere by hozier. I guess I'll see you all on Sunday? Once a superstitious bitch, always one, ya know?**

 **xoxo**

 **-Pixie**


	4. I've Been in the Water Too Long

**AN: on one hand, this is definitely late, on the other hand, it's much much earlier than the last chapter so? I'm gonna count it as a win tbh. Honestly part of its lateness is due to editing issues, I just could not get it to behave, but also, this isn't something I particularly want to get into, but bare bones, a large part of my original hiatus was due to health issues, and while I'm much better than I was before, and really, don't worry about me, I promise it's nothing life-threatening, it is however, life-altering, and I'm still learning how to adjust my life around it. So I'm gonna try to commit to Sunday night posting, at least until I feel I can do that reasonably regularly, and then I'll consider adding Thursday posting too. I do appreciate the concern from everyone in the reviews for the last chapter, everyone was so incredibly kind, but I promise I won't be upset if ya'll want to talk about the story instead of me. Anyway, enjoy!**

 **Addendum**

 _(n.)_

 _A thing to be added; an addition._

 **Chapter Four**

 **Dead in the Water**

 **aka**

 **I've Been in the Water Too Long**

Here's the thing, Dean flirts like he breathes, so Sam is almost willing to believe that it doesn't mean anything, the way he teases Elena about her legs, her face, the way she can make an entire room sway if she feels like it. Hell, Dean doesn't seem to have any problem flirting with other girls in front of her so maybe that's just the way they are.

What Sam can't let go if the fact that Elena's the first person Dean looks to, in any room, any situation. And Dean touches her so casually, so constantly, arm over her shoulder, grabs her hand to drag her out of harm's way, plays with her hair, but Elena is so careful about touching Dean.

Elena, really, is what gives them away.

Elena doesn't touch Dean unless it's an emergency and he's under immediate threat and he needs help, Sam thought he was making it up but that's the only time he's ever seen her touch him unless she's tossing out the occasional teasing little punch to the shoulder or kick in the shin, calculated casualness in every touch. If Elena is that wary about touching Dean, it begs to question, what exactly does she feel when she touches him?

Right now, Dean's flirting with the waitress like it's his job and she's obviously into it, "Can I get you anything else?" and absolutely no one misses the innuendo or how completely dirty Dean's responding grin is, but the thing is, Elena doesn't seem to notice or care.

She's engrossed in a conversation with a man old enough to be her grandfather about his roses and Sam really believes she actually cares about this man's flowers and what kind of fertilizer he's thinking of switching to.

Sam cuts Dean off before he can commit time he doesn't have. "Just the check, please," he tells her, catching Elena's eye and canting his head for her to come back over she nods and then says her polite goodbyes to the old man who smiles so wide at her that for a second Sam wonders if she'd started that conversation just to make his day. It seems like the kind of thing she would do.

"You know, Sam," Dean starts, an extra helping of exasperation in his tone, "we are allowed to have fun once in a while." He points in the direction the waitress went. "That's fun."

Elena gets to the table just in time to hear his last remark, and she laughs a little, sitting down at Dean's side, smiling fondly at him, and Sam kind of hates it. He wishes they'd just be clear about what the hell they are so he doesn't have to spend all his spare time wondering why the hell his brother doesn't just do something about the fact that he so obviously wants this girl.

He can't even imagine why Elena doesn't do anything, it seems like she's pretty damned determined to stay as much of a mystery as she was that fateful night they met.

He focuses in on what Dean is saying, " –Take a look at this. I think I got one." He slides the paper over so Sam can see it, Elena already having looked at it over his shoulder.

"Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin, last week, Sophie Carlton, 18, walks into the lake, doesn't walk out. Authorities dragged the water – nothing." Dean shakes his head. "Sophie Carlton is the third Lake Manitoc drowning this year. None of the other bodies were found either," he adds. "They had a funeral two days ago."

"A funeral?" Sam asks.

"Yeah, it's weird, they buried an empty casket, for closure or whatever," Dean says, making a face.

"People grieve in different ways," Elena says, but her voice is distant, and she'd been so silent that until that moment Sam hadn't even remembered she was there. Dean's expression changes as he looks at her, like something dawned on him in a way that isn't all that pleasant.

"Uh, you can, sit this one out, Gilbert," Dean offers, concern evident in his tone. "If it hits too close to home, or whatever."

Elena shakes her head, looks at him, making an effort to pull herself back from whatever dark hole she'd been in. "No, it's okay, I'll be fine," she assures him. "Just, maybe a little less involved," she suggests when Dean looks like he's going to protest.

Sam wonders what about this one could hit close to home, why his brother would be so concerned that he'd offer her a way out when he always seems to rely on her so completely during the course of a hunt.

Before he can ask, Elena gets up. "I think I'll wait in the car," she says, her face closing off in a way it does sometimes, like she's closing the curtains on all her good will and kindness, withdrawing until she can be the best version of herself again. That bright, smiling girl who goes out of her way to make conversation with lonely old men.

Without a word, Dean hands his keys off to Elena, and she slips out the door.

"Yeah, people do grieve in different ways," Dean says, echoing Elena's words, his eyes still on her through the window as she climbs into the backseat of the Impala.

Dean turns back to Sam, pretending like nothing unusual had happened.

"Well now that they've got their closure or whatever, let's hope they don't mind a couple of questions," Dean says, clearly intent on heading off Sam's questions about Elena's reaction to their latest case.

It works.

"Closure? What closure?" Sam asks bitterly. "People don't just disappear, Dean. Other people just stop looking for them."

Dean says, shifts in his seat, looks over at Sam, sighs, and goes for it. "Something you want to say to me?"

Sam doesn't hold anything back.

"The trail for Dad, it's getting colder every day."  
"Exactly," Dean agrees. "So what are we supposed to do?"

"I don't know. Something. Anything," Sam says, his frustration growing. He looks out the window at the Impala, he can't see Elena, so he assumes she must be lying down or something.

"We could—" he starts, but Dean sees where he's heading and is already shaking his head.

"No," he says flatly. "She doesn't know anything," he adds.

"We don't know that Dean, for all we know whatever she's keeping a secret is why Dad's missing," Sam argues.

Dean shakes his head. "If it was about Elena, she'd be with him," Dean points out, easily poking holes in Sam's theory.

"She could still know where he is," Sam says, setting his jaw stubbornly.

"She doesn't," Dean says simply. "She'd tell me if she did," he insists.

"You don't know that," Sam argues. "She already keeps secrets, why wouldn't she keep that secret from you if Dad asked her to?"

Dean sighs. "Because, Sammy, the only secrets she keeps are about herself, they're her secrets, she has the right to not tell me – us, if she doesn't want to."

Sam scoffs. "Like you don't want to know."

Dean looks up, exasperated. "Of course I want to know, Sammy," he says to the ceiling. He tips his head back down to look at his brother. "But I'm not gonna make her tell me."

Sam knows he should let it go, he's uncertain that whatever secrets Elena is keeping has anything to do with their dad, but he doesn't have anything else to go on, this is it, and Sam can't understand why Dean, who hates secrets and lies and always wants to know everything even if he's gonna hate it, is so willing to let Elena keep all her secrets.

"Why not?" Sam challenges.

Dean sighs deeply, and then it bursts out, the truth, like he never intended to tell him. "Because she'll leave," he says in a rush, in one breath.

"Excuse me," Sam says, taken aback.

Dean heaves a sigh, looks at the table, working his jaw. "Elena would leave, go somewhere else, go stay with her brother at college, before she'd tell me – us, her secrets," he says. "I really do believe that," he adds, softer.

Sam gets it suddenly, Elena and all of her secrets and her refusal to let Dean in is better than no Elena at all.

"Okay," Sam says, backing off. He still wants to know what she's hiding, but Dean knows Elena better than he does, so if he says she'd leave, then she'd leave, and that's the last thing Sam wants.

He doesn't want her to leave because she's easy to be around and he genuinely likes her, could imagine being friends with her if they'd met in a college class, could imagine Jess being friends with her—and that _hurts_ like a physical ache, but it isn't unbearable like everything else about Jess is now, it's just sad, that they never got to meet and be friends—but most of all, Sam doesn't want Elena to leave because Dean doesn't want her to leave.

Whatever weird, intense, ignored thing they have going on, Dean wants her there, with him, and Sam isn't anywhere near a bad enough person to drive her away just because he's a curious person by nature.

"What is it about this case that made you think she wouldn't want to take it?" Sam asks, since he can't ask about anything else.

Dean sighs in exasperation.

Sam switches tactics. "Is it like the bridge?" Sam asks. "Elena doesn't like drowning like she doesn't like bridges?"

Dean lets out a scoffing laugh. "Sammy, most people don't like drowning," he points out.

"So water," Sam says. "Elena doesn't like water, like she doesn't like bridges."

Dean pays the bill.

"Yes, Sammy, Elena doesn't like drowning," he finally says begrudgingly, "like she doesn't like bridges." He looks at him, adds, "Water's okay, most of the time."

Dean stands, smiles at the waitress, and walks out the door towards the Impala, already talking to Elena.

"Drowning and bridges," Sam says under his breath. "Got it."

* * *

The drive to Lake Manitoc isn't too long, but every mile marker they pass seems to make Elena tenser and quieter, and despite her assurances, it doesn't seem like she wants to take this case. Dean makes an effort to talk to her, but her replies seem to drift out of her, like she's not really there, not really talking to him, just letting someone else take the wheel and do the hard work for her.

When they final get to the Carlton residence, it isn't even a question of if Elena will go in with them, she just looks at Dean, her eyes impossibly big, drowned in memories, and he nods slowly, moves his hand like he's going to touch her, stroke her hair, squeeze her shoulder, but he stops, drops his hand, like he's afraid of what touching her would mean when she's like this.

He catches Sam's eye and cants his head to indicate that he should follow him. One last look at Elena's lonely figure in the car, and he does.

"Will Carlton?" Dean asks the young man who opens the front door.

"Yeah, that's right," he says, eyeing them warily.

"I'm Agent Ford, this is Agent Hamil," Dean says by way of introduction. "We're with the U.S. Wildlife Service." Dean flashes his (fake) badge, and Will lets them in.

He leads them out to the pier on the lake where his dad sits.

"She was about a hundred yards out, that's where she got dragged down," Will says, tucking trembling fists into his pockets as he describes the way his sister died.

"And you're sure she didn't just drown?" Dean asks.

"Yeah." Will scoffs. "She was a varsity swimmer. She practically grew up in that lake. She's as safe out there as in her own bathtub."

Sam jumps in. "So, no splashing, no signs of distress?" he asks.

"No, that's what I'm telling you," Will says, shaking his head impatiently. His eyes are on Dean's car, he can see the back of Elena's shiny dark head of hair, and Sam knows he wants to ask about her, so Sam distracts him with more questions, remembering the way Elena had been looking at the lake when they'd come back out with Will.

She'd look breathless, drowning on dry land, and then she'd turned so suddenly and stayed so still that Sam hadn't been able to bring himself to look back at her since, although Dean had turned around a few times to check on her.

"Did you see any shadows in the water?" Sam asks. "Some dark shape breach the surface?"

Will shakes his head. "No, again, she was really far out there."

Dean asks, "you ever see any strange tracks by the shoreline?"

"No, never," Will denies. "Why? What do you think's out there?"

"We'll let you know as soon as we do," Dean says evasively, turning quickly to head back to the car. He doesn't go for the driver's door though, instead opens one of the back doors, sliding in next to Elena, probably to check up with her.

"What about your father?" Sam asks, intent on finishing the line of questioning, even if Dean is too distracted to do it. "Can we talk to him?" Sam asks, perfectly willing to question the older Mr. Carlton while Dean figures out what can be done for Elena.

Will looks at his father, then back at Sam.

"Look, if you don't mind, I mean, he didn't see anything, and he's kind of been through a lot," Will says protectively.

Sam nods. "We understand," he says amiably.

He heads back to the car, seeing that Dean isn't making any moves towards the driver's seat, Sam heads there, reaching back for the keys once he's settled.

Dean hands them over wordlessly. He's leaning into Elena, only their shoulders touching, and she's still silent, but she looks better than she had earlier, less far away, less drifting.

* * *

She doesn't come in with them when they head for the sheriff's office, but she at least tells them herself, this time, verbalizes that she isn't up for it, which seems like an improvement to Sam.

"Now why does the Wildlife Service care about an accidental drowning?" the sheriff asks as he leads them back to his office.

Sam replies with a question of his own. "You sure it's accidental?"

The sheriff gives him a look, so he elaborates. "Will Carlton saw something grab his sister."

"Like what?" the sheriff challenges. "Here, sit, please," he says, indicating to the two chairs in front of his desk. "There are no indigenous carnivores in that lake," he says as he makes his way over to his own seat. "There's nothing even big enough to pull down a person." He smirks. "Unless it was the Loch Ness monster," he adds mockingly.

"Yeah, right," Dean says, his tone in obvious agreement with the sheriff's ridiculing tone.

"Will Carlton was traumatized, and sometimes the mind plays tricks," the sheriff says pityingly. "Still, we dragged that entire lake. We even ran a sonar sweep, just to be sure, and there was nothing down there."

Dean shakes his head. "Yeah, but that's weird though," he counters. "I mean, that's the third missing body this year."

"I know," the sheriff says gravely. "These are people from my town. These are people I care about," he reminds them.

"I know," Dean says.

"Anyway." The sheriff sighs and leans back in his chair. "All this, it won't be a problem much longer."

"What do you mean?" Dean asks.

The sheriff gives him a surprised look. "Well, the dam, of course."

"Of course, the dam," Dean says, agreeing quickly like he'd already known, Sam nodding along for believability. "It's uh, sprung a leak."

The sheriff scoffs. "It's falling apart," he corrects. "And the feds, won't give us the funds to repair it, so they've opened the spillway." He leans forward and says, frankly, "In another six months, there won't be much a lake. There won't be much of a town, either." He pauses. "But as Federal Wildlife, you already knew that." He gives them a penetrating look.

"Exactly," Dean agrees.

A knock on the open door brings their attention over to a pretty brunette, already walking into the room.

"Sorry, am I interrupting?" she asks.

Dean and Sam start to stand up.

"I can come back later," she says.

The sheriff introduces her. "Gentlemen, this is my daughter."

Dean is already off in flirting land while Sam tries not to let his impatience show.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm Dean."

"Andrea Bar, hi," she says.

"Hi," Dean says, and Sam fights back a snort of exasperation. Dean loves nothing more than a pretty girl to flirt with.

"They're from the wildlife service, about the lake."

Thankfully the sheriff interrupts before Dean can really get going and Sam has to walk into a wall out of sheer embarrassment for him.

The Sheriff introduces them to Andrea's son, Lucas, a quiet little boy. He then subtly guides them out of his office with a vague insistence that they return if they need anything. Dean, of course, takes the opportunity to innocently ask for a motel recommendation from Andrea.

He feigns confusion at Andrea's incredibly simple directions, compelling her to lead them outdoors and down the street in the correct direction, Sam trailing after them and rolling his eyes at his brother's one track mind.

"So, cute kid," Dean says. He and Dean walk behind her as she leads them the two short blocks to the motel.

"Thanks," Andrea says back at him. They follow her across the street.

"Kids are the best, huh?" Dean says and Sam finds himself dropping back just a bit so neither of them will hear his snort.

Andrea looks back to give Dean a disbelieving look, turning forward so he can't see her holding back a laugh at his expense.

"There it is, like I said, two blocks," Andrea says, turning to them.

"Thanks," Sam says.

"Must be hard," she says to Dean, "with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pick up line."

Before Dean can fully process her comment, she's jogging across the street, tossing a light "enjoy your stay!" over her shoulder as she goes.

Sam tries not to beam.

"'Kids are the best'?" Sam asks amusedly. "You don't even like kids."

"I love kids," Dean says.

"Name three children that you even know," Sam replies instantly.

Dean's face goes blank. Sam rolls his eyes and walks away.

"I'm thinking!" Dean insists as he follows behind him.

"'…With your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pick up line'," Sam quotes out loud with amusement.

Dean gives him a glare.

"What are you doing?"

Sam's response is instantaneous.

"I'm committing it to memory so I can remember it word for word when I tell Elena."

Dean shoves him in the shoulder, hard, but Sam just laughs unrepentantly.

"You should call Elena, I'll go get us a room," Sam says after he composes himself, a hint of laughter still in his voice.

Dean scoffs.

"Don't be stupid, Sammy, Elena texted me while we were in with the sheriff, she's already got us a room here."

Sam stops short, looking after him incredulously.

Dean turns back. "What?" he shrugs innocently.

"You are unbelievable, man," Sam finally says after a moment, shaking his head as he starts to walk again.

"Whatever," Dean says unrepentantly, "the room's this way."

* * *

There are plenty of weird aspects of Dean and Elena's relationship to Sam, without question the most suspect is the fact that they share a bed.

Dean has rock solid reasoning for it, but it still strikes Sam as the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard, his brother platonically sharing a bed with a girl. Dean Winchester sleeping in the same bed as a girl and absolutely no shenanigans or naughty touching occurring.

They go back for the Impala and park in front of the room number Elena had texted Dean. In the room Elena is sprawled upside down on the bed closest to the door, her hair flipped out from under her to flow down the foot of the bed, so long it touches the floor. The local news is on, but Elena's eyes are on the ceiling, her face devoid of expression.

Without a word, Dean drops both of their bags next to the bed and flips himself casually down to lay next to her, their shoulders just barely touching. Dean turns his head to look at her, and after a moment she looks back at him.

"So tell me about it," Elena says softly, and Dean obliges, shifting so their arms are pressed together from shoulder to elbow.

Sam twitches, but says nothing, moves to put his stuff down next to the other bed before he goes about setting his laptop up.

Dean's logic isn't at all flawed, for once, but it's still weird.

When it had first come to light back in Jericho, how exactly sleeping arrangements worked, Sam had stared at his brother for a long time.

Dean had rolled his eyes. "We usually share a bed, Sammy, it's fine."

"Excuse me?" Sam had asked, wondering if somehow he'd missed something about Dean and Elena's dynamic after all. Maybe Elena was as adverse to traditional relationships as his brother.

But Dean had only rolled his eyes. "Get your mind out of the gutter, perv, nothing's ever happened, it's just the most sensible solution."

"To what?"

Dean had shrugged. "We're on the road alone together a lot, Sammy, people look at us and they'd never believe we're just friends and we definitely can't pass as sibling," he'd pointed out.

Sam had given a cautious conceding nod, these were all valid points. He'd only seen them together for a day and arguably knew Dean better than just about anyone save for their father and possibly now Elena, but even he'd made snap assumptions about their relationship.

"So you know the rules, we have to try to blend in, be forgettable, I show up with her in tow and try to insist we're friends and that's all, and ask for two beds? That makes us pretty friggin' memorable," Dean had said. "Elena's already a little bit too much of a people magnet, so we just get one bed and let people assume whatever."

Sam had simply stared at him, unable to disagree with his logic, but still incapable of wrapping his head around his brother sharing a bed with a girl, platonically.

Dean rolled his eyes at his disbelief.

"Oh shut up, I'm an adult, I can sleep in a damn bed with a girl without anything happening, I've been doing it for nearly two friggin' years."

That had been the end of that, Sam hadn't brought it up again, no matter how weird it was to him when he woke up in the middle of the night to see them lying side by side, both under the covers but not touching at all.

He can barely look at them on the bed, now, lying down side by side, fully clothed on top of the covers, talking about the case, without feeling like he's invading their privacy, a feeling he's just starting to get used to.

His ultimate conclusion is simple, Dean and Elena are weird.

Dean has made his way to the part of the story that includes Andrea, and Elena's mouth twitches just a little bit, so Sam jumps in to give her the exact line she'd parted with, to give Elena the full effect.

When Elena laughs out loud, he knows he made the right choice. The small satisfied smile at the corner of Dean's mouth confirms Sam's suspicion that Dean only included that part of the story in order to cheer Elena up.

A thoughtful look crosses Dean's face. "Hey, 'Lena," he starts, "what about Jeremy?"

Elena laughs again, understanding his thought process instantly.

"Dean, Jeremy was sixteen when you met us, he doesn't really count as a little kid, you dork."

Dean sniffs incredulously, shooting her a playfully resentful look.

"C'mon, Sammy's the straight man, you're supposed to back me up," he says teasingly, poking her in the shoulder.

She sticks her tongue out at him in response while Sam snorts and rolls his eyes in the background.

"We met in her dad's office, that's practically chick flick material," Dean says, clearly on a roll in his efforts to cheer Elena up and unwilling to give it up. "This is all part of my strategy, the super cool, badass guy who's secretly got a soft spot, chicks eat that shit up."

Elena giggles, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

"Hey Sam, you know chick flicks, what's it called when they meet or whatever?" Dean asks, reeling him back in.

Sam rolls his eyes.

"It's a meet-cute," he says begrudgingly.

Dean grins. "Yeah, that." He turns back to Elena. "I'm cute, I could have a meet-cute."

She cackles in delight.

Sam smirks, shaking his head.

"How did you two meet?" he asks, suddenly realizing neither of them had told him.

Elena stops laughing, she sits up slowly.

Dean pushes himself up onto his elbows, the amusement sliding off of his face.

"Uh, we met at my father and aunt's funeral," she says slowly.

"Oh," Sam says, reality sinking in.

Dean sits up beside her.

Almost without her volition she flips her hair over to the side, gathering it together, her fingers deftly begin braiding it together.

"Is that when our dad took you in?" Sam asks hesitantly. He feels bad, really, since it's obviously not a fantastic memory, but he's too rabidly curious to let it go.

"Uh, no," Elena says softly. "Not then, not for another six months actually."

She doesn't elaborate further, but the distant look is back and Dean shoots him an aggravated glare, so he doesn't continue on with that line of questioning.

Sam clears his throat, lunges for the first thing that comes to mind.

"Well that definitely doesn't qualify as a meet-cute," he says.

They both look over at him, matching surprised expressions on their faces.

He stares back for a second, then clears his throat and rolls with it.

"Sorry guys, but I'm afraid you've been disqualified from the meet-cute category, that's just a little morbid for the academy," he says seriously.

The corner of Elena's mouth twitches even as Dean gives him a disbelieving look.

"I think a cemetery meet-cute could be adorable," Elena says, a barely perceptible edge of a playful challenge in her voice.

Dean stops glaring daggers at Sam to look over at her, and seeing that while her fingers continue to twist her hair into a perfectly sloppy side braid, the distant look on her face is gone, he smiles a little bit, relaxing.

Sam nods in agreement. "Oh I'm sure it could be, but at a funeral? It's just not possible, I'm sorry."

Elena sighs dramatically and looks over at Dean.

"Well, better luck next time, I guess."

He shrugs, giving her a faux-rueful grin.

Her phone rings then and she goes to pick it up, her entire body language shifting before she even answers, becomes lighter, cheerful, putting on a show for someone who can't even see her, so Sam knows before she even says his name that it's her brother. She slides off the bed and out the door, already chattering away about his last paper and how he likes the city.

Dean looks over at him.

"I know you have questions, but just don't," Dean says simply, cutting to the point. "Not now, this is not the case to make it your personal mission to figure out what the hell she's hiding, and I guarantee if you pry it will get ugly and I will pick her side without question."

Sam shakes his head. "Dean, I had no way of knowing that, I didn't mean for that to happen—"

Dean cuts him off. "Good, don't do it again," he says shortly. "Not during this case."

Sam nods hesitantly. The silence stretches on for a moment, until Sam turns back to his laptop, the research he'd begun before he found himself dragged into Dean and Elena's conversation already organized by relevance.

"So there's the three drowning victims this year," Sam starts, hoping to diffuse the tense atmosphere.

"And before that?" Dean asks shortly.

"Uh, yeah, six more, spread out over the past thirty-five years," Sam answers. "Those bodies were never recovered either. If there is something out there, it's picking up its pace."

"So we got a lake monster on a binge," Dean speculates.

"This whole lake monster theory it- it just bugs me," Sam says.

"Why?" Dean asks simply, his tone still somewhat short.

Sam ignores it, hoping that he'll calm down the more they focus on the case.

"Loch Ness, Lake Champlain—there are literally hundreds of eyewitness accounts, but here, almost nothing." Dean leans on the back of his chair with his forearms to peer over his shoulder at the computer screen.

"Whatever it is out there, no one's living to talk about it."

Dean leans further over his shoulder, pointing his finger at the screen.

"Wait, Bar, Christopher Bar, where have I heard that name before?" he asks.

"Christopher Bar, the victim in May," Sam says, reviewing the information out loud as he searches. "Oh," he says as he finds what he's looking for, a newspaper article with a terrified picture of the little boy they'd met briefly earlier.

"Christopher Bar was Andrea's husband, Lucas' father. Apparently he took Lucas out swimming. Lucas was on a floating wooden platform when Christopher drowned," Sam reads aloud from the article. "Two hours before the kid got rescued," he summarizes.

Dean looks away for a second, towards the door, he can see Elena's outline through the blinds. She sways a little from side to side, and Dean knows that means the conversation is almost over.

Sam clicks on the photo of Lucas' terrified face, a larger image now filling his screen.

"Maybe we have an eyewitness after all," he says soberly.

"No wonder that kid was so freaked out," Dean says, his eyes now on the screen and the boy's terrified face. "Watching one of your parents die isn't something you just get over."

Elena comes back inside before Sam can formulate a reply. She's casually slipping her phone into the back pocket of her jeans, a much more relaxed expression on her face.

"What'd I miss?" she asks.

Sam is about to answer when he catches a glimpse of Dean's face out of the corner of his eye. He looks genuinely reluctant, like he doesn't want to tell her and that's enough for Sam to shut his mouth and let Dean do the talking.

"We found an eyewitness," Dean says with a certain amount of reluctance.

Elena raises an eyebrow.

"Lucas, the little boy we met earlier, he was there when his dad drowned."

Elena inhales—not sharply, delicately, deliberately—and then nods so carefully that it physically hurts Sam and he doesn't even know why she's taking it the way she is.

It's easy to assume that she more than likely witnessed the death of one of her parents, maybe even her father, but he can't imagine why this particular case would be so pointed, so painful, that Elena has retreating into herself like she is.

"Andrea said they were gonna go to the park at three, so we're gonna head down there and see if he can give us anything," Dean tells her. He looks her over with a critical eye for a second, and then picks up his jacket decisively. "You should come," he says firmly.

Elena looks at him. "Um, are you sure that's a good idea?" she asks.

Dean nods. "Yeah, you don't have to talk to anyone, just come to the park, do something other than stare at the ceiling and remember."

He makes a certain amount of sense, but Sam's not entirely sure Elena is convinced. He glances between the two of them. Dean is looking at her steadily, a calm but firm expression on his face, and Elena has her head cocked to the side, her face still unsure.

"C'mon, 'Lena, there'll be swings," he says lightly. "If you ask nicely, I might even give you a push when we're done." He smiles winningly at her.

Sam rolls his eyes at his tone.

Elena narrows her eyes at Dean, but, in a surprising move, she reaches for her jacket.

"All right, Winchester, but I'm not talking to anyone," she says, slipping it on and turning back towards the door.

Dean grins at her and moves to follow her out.

"I'll just be on the swings, minding my own business."

"That's all I ask."

Sam shakes his head fondly at them and then follows after them.

* * *

"Can we join you?" Sam asks Andrea at the park.

The swings are on the other side of the playground from where Andrea is seated on a bench, and Sam had only been mildly surprised when, with a sassy look thrown over her shoulder for Dean's benefit, Elena had in fact parted ways with them to go sit on a swing. She didn't seem particularly intent on swinging, instead choosing to sit and fool around on her phone, but Sam could tell that it made Dean happy to see her outside of the motel room.

"I'm here with my son," Andrea says, gesturing to Lucas sitting on another bench amidst the other children, drawing with remarkable intensity for a boy his age.

"Oh, mind if I say hi?" Dean asks, already moving towards Lucas.

Andrea scoffs as Sam sits down next to her.

Turning to him she says, "Tell your friend this whole 'Jerry Maguire' thing's not gonna work on me."

Sam shakes his head.

"I don't think that's what this is about."

Dean loves to flirts, but he takes their job very seriously, Lucas is the only possible witness, and while Sam personally feels that Elena is probably better suited to talk to the little boy, he respects that she needs distance from this case for whatever reason.

Despite his doubts, Sam can't ignore that Dean obviously relates to Lucas because of their mother's death that he witnessed when he was younger than Lucas, but still old enough to remember, unlike Sam.

"How's it going?" Dean asks Lucas as he approaches him, crouching down to his level.

Lucas doesn't acknowledge him, continuing to draw.

"Oh I used to love these things," he says, noticing Lucas' army men neatly arranged by his crayons.

He picks one up, mimicking gunfire and explosions, dropping it dramatically to the ground with a chuckle, but Lucas continues to draw.

"So crayons is more your thing?" Dean eyes Lucas for a second. "That's cool. Chicks dig artists," he says very seriously.

Dean looks at Lucas' art, surprisingly realistic for a kid his age.

"Hey, these are pretty good," he says, switching tactics when it becomes clear that Lucas really isn't all that interested in attracting girls or chit-chat. "You mind if I sit and draw with you for a while? I'm not so bad myself."

He looks over Lucas' shoulder to where Elena on the swings, swaying slightly as she focuses on her phone screen. For a second he wishes she was the one talking to the kid, she's good at this sort of shit, but he'd rather she sit this one out than to deal with any of the resulting nightmares from pushing herself too far into a situation that hits too close to home.

She bites her lip and types something into her phone. If she's texting then it's more than likely Jeremy, she doesn't often keep up with her friends from back home and part of him feels bad for how grateful he is for that, but if she spent all her time missing them it would make their job harder.

Her demons are enough to contend with, homesickness is another beast entirely.

Focusing back on the case, Dean grabs a piece of paper and a crayon, sitting down on the bench.

"You know, I'm thinking you can hear me." He starts drawing, talking at the same time, trying to strike the right tone and casualness to put Lucas at ease. "You just don't wanna talk. I don't know exactly what happened to your dad, but I know it was something real bad."

Dean pauses, his crayon hesitating, looks over at Lucas before continuing, "I think I know how you feel."

He stops again, looks at the ground intently to make it through what he needs to say without overwhelming himself.

"When I was your age I saw something." He pauses, shoving down hard on the surging emotions so they don't get the better of him, and just like that he can feel Elena's steadying gaze on him.

She hadn't looked up when he'd checked on her earlier, but in her own special Elena way, she knew exactly when to look at him. He glances back, catching her eye. She gives him a small soft smile, and he returns it gratefully.

He turns back to Lucas.

"Anyway," he says, clearing his throat. "Maybe you don't think anyone will listen to you, or uh, or believe you." Dean frowns, hating the thought. "I want you to know that I will."

Beside him, Lucas continues to draw.

"You don't even have to say anything, you could draw me a picture of what you saw that day with your dad on the lake," Dean says, knowing that sometimes talking about it is simply too hard.

He watches him for a second.

"Okay, no problem," he says, seeing that Lucas isn't going to say anything, he leans down to show him his drawing. "This is for you, this is my family."

He begins pointing them out. "That's my dad, that's," he hesitates, "that's my mom, that's my geek brother," he says, attempting levity.

"That's my best friend, Elena," he says, and really, she's so much more than that, she's his partner, but best friend seemed to be the normal person term for her, the one he could say with no explanation needed.

"That's her brother, he's an artist, like you," because even if she's spent more of her time in Dean's company in the past two years, Dean can't imagine separating them in his head, wouldn't even want to, so if Elena's his family, so is Jeremy.

"And that's me," he says, pointing to the last stick figure. "All right, so I'm a sucky artist," he admits. "I'll see you around, Lucas."

He puts the drawing down and gets up to go back to where Sam and Andrea are standing, glancing back at Elena. The little girl on the swing next to her says something to her and she smiles and he mirrors it reflexively, missing the moment where Lucas grabs his drawing.

"Lucas hasn't said a word, not even to me," Andrea is telling Sam when Dean approaches. "Not since his dad's accident."

She looks over at Dean.

"Yeah, we heard, sorry," Dean says seriously, a far cry from the ridiculous flirt she'd met earlier that same day.

"What are the doctors saying?" Sam asks.

Andrea sighs heavily. "That it's a kind of post-traumatic stress."  
"That can't be easy, for either of you," Sam says sympathetically.

"We moved in with my dad," she says by way of agreement. "He helps out a lot."

"It's just-" She looks down, and then over to her son. "When I think about what Lucas went through, what he saw…" she trails off.

"Kids are strong," Dean says assuredly. "You'd be surprised at what they can deal with."

Andrea gives him a thankful smile, surprised at his depth now that he isn't trying to impress her.

"You know, he used to have such life," she says wistfully. "He was hard to keep up with to tell you the truth." She laughs a little, remembering the way he was, her smile fading as she remembers what he's like now, the pain unbearable for a mother. "Now he just sits there, drawing those pictures, playing with those army men."

"I just wish-" she starts, cutting herself off when she sees Lucas approaching their huddle.

"Hey, sweetie," she says, crouching down to see what he wants.

Without making eye contact, Lucas holds up a drawing for Dean.

Andrea looks up at him in amazement.

"Thanks," Dean says, taking the picture from him. "Thanks, Lucas."

Still looking at the ground, Lucas turns and walks back to his bench.

Andrea looks after her son, then back to Dean for a second before she follows after him where he is gathering his stuff, signaling that he's ready to go.

Dean and Sam head over to the swings where Elena is idly swaying, the tip of her boot dug into the sand.

Elena nods to the picture in Dean's hand. "Looks like you got something after all," she says.

"Yeah, I guess I did, don't know what yet," he says.

He looks at her for a long moment.

"So you want me to push you?" he asks mock-seriously.

She glares.

"No," she says insistently, and then, after a beat, grudgingly, "Yes."

Dean grins and hands over the drawing to Sam.

"Put your phone away," he says, already moving to stand behind her, grasping the chains in his hands, ready to pull her back as soon as her phone is secure in her jacket pocket.

She obliges and Dean pulls her back just a little bit, starting her slow as he gently pushes against her back to add momentum.

Against her will, Elena starts to giggle as her stomach swoops with the increased speed, and Dean grins in complete satisfaction

Sam, having moved off to the side out of their way, stares in amused amazement, half-wanting to laugh at their antics and completely incapable of keeping the grin off his face.

They really are ridiculous.

Unbeknownst to the three of them, Andrea had looked back at them, witnessing the light-hearted scene. The two men are sporting large grins, and the girl on the swing is laughing freely, leaning forward into the momentum for maximum effect. Andrea smiles reflexively at the trio's apparent happiness, puzzled as to why the female member hadn't been introduced to them or referenced in her hearing.

* * *

"So, I think it's safe to say we can rule out Nessie," Sam says abruptly, striding into the motel room the next morning, ignoring the door that slams behind him.

"What do you mean?" Elena asks, propped up against the headboard of her and Dean's bed.

Sam sits down at the foot bed next to Dean.

Elena looks a lot more like herself now, but Sam is too worked up to approach this diplomatically.

"I just drove past the Carlton house." He looks at Dean. "There was an ambulance there. Will Carlton is dead."

"He drowned?" Dean asks, glancing over at Elena briefly before focusing back on Sam.

"Yup," Sam confirms before he drops the twist. "In the sink."

Dean blinks. "What the hell?"

"Oh God," Elena says, looking alarmed but not traumatized.

"So you're right, this isn't a creature," Dean says. "We're dealing with something else"

"Yeah," Sam agrees, "but what?"

"I don't know," Dean replies, shaking his head. "A water wraith, maybe? Some kind of demon?" he suggests. "I mean, something that controls water…" he trails off, something finally clicking in his head and almost the instant he understands, Sam does too.

"Water that comes from the same source," he says.

"The lake," Elena says softly, contributing for the first time.

Sam snaps his fingers and points at Elena in agreement, considering the implications.

Dean nods, eyeing her carefully, and when he sees that she seems to be fine, he relaxes and pays attention to what Sam is saying.

"Which would explain why it's upping the body count," Sam is saying. "The lake is draining, it'll be dry in a few months. Whatever this thing is, whatever it wants, it's running out of time."

Dean continues his train of thought.

"And if it can get through the pipes, it can get to anyone, almost anywhere." He stands abruptly, moving to put on his shoes. "This is gonna happen again soon."

"And we do know one other thing for sure," Sam says, shifting to face Dean again. "This has got something to do with Bill Carlton.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sam notes that Elena is getting up too, sliding on her boots just like Dean.

"It took both his kids," Dean says matter of factly, looking at Elena over Sam's shoulder.

"And I've been asking around, Lucas' dad, Chris? Bill Carlton's godson," Sam says.

Dean stands only a second before Elena does.

"You coming?" he asks her.

She grabs her jacket, straightens her spine and takes a deep breath.

"Yeah," she says. "I got this."

Dean smiles at her. "Yeah, you do."

She smiles back at him and slips her jacket on.

"Let's go pay Mr. Carlton a visit," Dean says.

* * *

"Mr. Carlton?" Sam says, causing him to look up.

"We'd like to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind," he says.

He's sitting down at the docks, staring out at the lake with a haunted look on his face.

"We're from the department-"

"I don't care who you're with," Mr. Carlton says, interrupting Sam's lie. "I've answered enough questions today."

Sam takes a breath, plunges in, metaphorically. "Your son said he saw something in that lake. What about you? You ever see anything out there?"

When he doesn't reply, Sam continues.

"Mr. Carlton, Sophie's drowning and Will's death, we think there might be a connection, to you or your family-"

"My children are gone," Mr. Carlton says abruptly, interrupting Sam again. "It's-" he stops, overcome by his grief for a moment. "It's worse than dying."

He looks up at them, pain etched across his face.

"Go away, please," he says, looking out at the lake again.

Sam turns back, ready to do as he asked, but without a word, Elena slips out silently from behind Dean, stopping just in front of Mr. Carlton. Still silent, she sinks down to her knees, looking up at Mr. Carlton with so much feeling that it makes Sam want to turn and run.

Mr. Carlton looks down at her, startled.

"I'm very sorry for your loss," she says, finally. "It's never easy, but when it can't be explained, or believed, it's worse."

Mr. Carlton gasps a little, gaping at her, tears streaming down his face.

She nods, swallowing hard, her eyes shining.

"You don't have to tell us anything," she says. "I'm just sorry."

Mr. Carlton nods in return, gulping for air. In a surprising move, he reaches out a hand and cradles the side of her head. After a moment he drops his hand and turns back to the lake looming out behind her like an endless stretch of desert. There was nothing nourishing about this lake.

Elena stands, and at almost the same moment Dean moves forward, catching her hand in his. They start back towards the car.

Sam follows after, catching sight of their hands, Dean's hand has gone white with the strength of Elena's grip, but he doesn't seem to have noticed, he walks close enough to her that they're shoulders overlap, hers in front of his.

"So what do you think?" Sam asks once they're out of his hearing range.

"I think the poor guy's been through hell," Dean says as they walk up to the Impala. He adds, "I also think he's not telling us something."

He stops in front of the backseat, reaching across Elena to open the door for her, his other hand still tightly clamped in hers.

Sam leans against the car. "So now what?"

Dean tilts his head, about to answer when he gets distracted by the sight of the Carlton house.

"What is it?" Elena asks, clearing her throat, her voice still husky from her intense emotional display.

"Huh," Dean says. "Maybe Bill's not the only one who knows something."

Dean reaches his free hand into his coat pocket to pull out the folded up drawing Lucas had given him. Elena releases his hand so he can unfold it more easily, revealing a drawing of the house in front of them.

Elena inhales, understanding sets in as Dean looks back at Sam.

No words needed to understand their next move, they all climb into the Impala.

* * *

"I'm sorry, but I don't think it's a good idea," Andrea says, shaking her head.

"I just need to talk to him, just for a few minutes," Dean says imploringly.

"He won't say anything, what good's it gonna do?" Andrea argues.

"Andrea," Sam interrupts. "We think more people might get hurt, we think something's happening out there."

She shakes her head. "My husband, the others, they just drowned, that's all," she says, rationalizing.

"If that's what you really believe, then we'll go," Dean offers. "But if you think there's even a possibility that something else could be going on here, please let me talk to your son."

This seems to do the trick, because Andrea leads him and Sam – Elena had elected to stay in the Impala, since neither Andrea nor Lucas have met her – back to Lucas' room where he is sitting cross-legged on the floor, as ever, drawing.

Dean approaches him slowly, crouching down beside him.

"Hey Lucas, remember me?" he asks.

"You know I, uh, I wanted to thank you for that last drawing," Dean says, slowly shifting around so he can sit cross-legged, like Lucas. "But the thing is, I need your help again."

He's watching him intently, looking for any sign of acknowledgement. He pulls out Lucas' drawing, unfolding it and putting it down in front of him.

"How did you know to draw this?" he asks. "Did you know something bad was gonna happen?"

Lucas draws on steadily, never faltering.

"Maybe you could nod yes or no for me?" Dean suggests.

Lucas does not respond.

"You're scared," Dean says, as if it has just occurred to him, like Lucas' own terror has settled into his bones and now he knows so he reacts accordingly. "It's okay," Dean reassures him, "I understand."

Sam realizes that this is the first time he's seen Dean interact with a kid this young up close, he's better at it than he ever imagined he could be.

"See, when I was your age, I saw something real bad happen to my mom, and I was scared, too," Dean says, his voice quivers. "I didn't feel like talking, just like you."

Dean leans forward intently. "But see, my mom, I know she wanted me to be brave."

Sam is holding his breath, this is the most he's ever heard his brother talk about his feelings about their mom's death.

"I think about that every day, and I do my best to be brave," he pauses. "And maybe your dad wants you to be brave, too."

That, at last, seems to stops Lucas short. He drops his crayon, slowly, carefully, he looks up at Dean. He reaches for one of his drawings and hands it to Dean.

"Thanks, Lucas," Dean says solemnly.

He gets up, Sam and Andrea trailing behind him on his trek towards the door.

"Thanks for letting me talk to him," Dean says to Andrea.

She nods, still shell-shocked by her son's reaction to this man.

When Sam and Dean make to leave, she can't help herself.

"Who is she?" she asks.

Dean turns back.

"The girl, at the park, that you were pushing on the swings?" she elaborates.

Dean raises an eyebrow, wondering what he could say, then remembers what he'd told her son the previous day, sticks with that.

"My best friend," he says.

He can't see Sam's face, but Andrea can, and she sees the large grin that blooms across his face at his brother's words.

"You bring your best friend with you to work?" she asks, skeptical.

Dean scoffs.

"I bring my best friend with me everywhere," he says, unrepentant.

She gives him a disbelieving look.

"What, you wouldn't bring your best friend with you everywhere if you could?" Dean asks.

She smiles incredulously.

"Yeah, I guess I would," she admits.

He grins.

"Well I can, so I do," he replies, turning to leave again.

When they're gone, Andrea shakes her head.

"Best friend, my ass," she mutters.

* * *

It takes them less time than anticipated to find the house in the drawing, a breakthrough coming quickly when Sam realizes the distinctive architecture on the church next door.

When Sam brings up what Dean had said about their mom, Dean deflects like a champion, stubbornly sticking to his insistence that he's pathologically allergic to anything touchy-feely, despite the fact that when push comes to shove, he's actually pretty good at it.

"Oh God, we're not gonna have to hug or anything, are we?" Dean asks, looking vaguely annoyed by the thought.

Sam scoffs, rolling his eyes at Dean's perfected ability to ruin any moment, sharing a look with Elena who's sitting behind Dean, like usual.

After a second, Elena flashes him a wicked grin. Sam watches in amusement as she leans forward in her seat, wrapping her arms around Dean's shoulders.

"I thought I was the huggy one?" she says teasingly, but her grip is firm and gentle, absolutely comforting even as she teases him.

Dean rolls his eyes at her. "You're a brat," he says gruffly, trying not to notice how good her hair smells or how nice it is when she actually initiates contact, even in a playful way.

She grins slipping her grip up to squeeze-hug his neck playfully before she lets go.

"You love it," she says in a sing-song tone.

Sam laughs.

"It's okay, Dean, everyone needs to be held sometimes," he says mock-seriously.

"Oh my God," Dean says, sounding pained. "I swear to God if the two of you start to regularly team up on me, I'm gonna kill you both in your sleep," he threatens.

Sam and Elena just laugh in reply, sharing a conspiratorial look.

* * *

They find the church easy enough, and right next to it is the house, exactly like Lucas' drawing, minus the little boy and his red bicycle.

Inside the house, an old lady painfully explains to them, her son, Peter, of the striped shirt and red bicycle, has been gone—missing and presumed dead, for thirty-five years.

"The police never – I never had any idea what happened, he just disappeared."

Sam nudges Dean, nodding his head in the direction of a collection of army soldier toys.

"Losing him, you know, it's worse than dying," she says.

Elena reaches out, giving her hand a comforting squeeze, and she holds onto it as if it is a lifeline.

Dean and Sam exchange a look at the familiar words.

"Did he disappear from here, I mean, from this house?" Dean asks.

"He was supposed to ride his bike straight home after school," she explains. "And he never showed up."

Dean finds an old boy scout photo of Peter with another boy.

"Peter Sweeney and Billy Carlton," Dean reads off the back grimly.

* * *

"Okay, this little boy Peter Sweeney vanishes, and this is all connected to Bill Carlton, somehow," Sam summarizes back in the car.

"Yeah, Bill sure as hell seems to be hiding something," Dean agrees.

"It's almost like he's being punished," Elena says from the back seat.

Sam turns back to her, nodding emphatically.

"Right, the people he loves are all being taken from him," he says.

"So what if Bill did something to Peter?" Dean suggests.

"What if Bill killed him?" Sam corrects.

"Peter's spirit would be furious. It'd want revenge, it's possible."

They pull up at the Carlton house soon after, but they're too late, Bill is already in his motorboat, on the lake.

Dean and Sam take off running, shouting after him to come back from the dock. Elena doesn't move though, her gaze on his lonely figure as he looks back at them without emotion. She's already figured out what the boys have yet to understand, Bill Carlton knows exactly what he's doing.

She flinches, unsurprised, when the boat is thrown dramatically through the air, Bill plunging into the water. She can't bring herself to look away.

* * *

Andrea is waiting for her father when they arrive at the Sheriff's station, Lucas with her. The Sheriff is somewhat surprised and suspicious to find that they're now on first name basis with his daughter, but all questions go out the window when Lucas rushes towards Dean, tugging on his sleeve insistently making distressed noises, frustrated by his own inability to communicate.

Once Andrea manages to calm him down she leads him out of the station to take him home at her father's request.

In the Sheriff's office he takes their statement about what they'd seen happen to Bill Carlton, fully skeptical of their account. He then reveals that not only does not believe them, he is also aware that they are not with wildlife services. Deadly serious, he asks them to leave the town, promising that as long as they don't return he won't arrest then for impersonating government officials.

All things considered, it seems to be a fair trade, so they agree to leave. After all, if it really is all about Bill Carlton, now that he's dead, it should be over.

* * *

"I just don't wanna leave town 'til I know the kid's okay," Dean admits as he drives them back into town, barely having made it past its borders before he'd decisively turned around.

"Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?" Sam asks in amazement.

"I object to that sentiment," Elena says from the backseat, leaning forward. "Dean barely knew me and he still remembered to call me on my birthday less than two months after we met, he can be very caring when he wants to be."

Sam turns to look at his brother in disbelief.

"You were turning eighteen which meant Dad didn't have anything to do with your guardianship any more, I knew you were excited about that," Dean says, clearly deflecting.

Elena rolls her eyes at his obvious discomfort affectionately.

"Well I agree with Dean, we should make sure the kid is okay," she says.

Sam laughs, still disbelieving. "Well the two of you are back to teaming up on me, so clearly order has been restored," he says in surrender.

"Damn right order has been restored," Dean says, glancing over at him with a dead serious look on his face.

Elena simply laughs.

* * *

When they arrive at the house, Lucas comes to the door almost immediately, clearly hyperventilating.

"Lucas?" Dean asks, alarmed, but Lucas simply runs off, so he follows him, Sam and Elena behind him.

When they reach the stairs, water is spilling down from a locked bathroom, the source of Lucas' terror becomes immediately obvious.

Lucas begins banging on the door, without a word Elena slips between them, hoists the little boy up into her arms and immediately takes him back down the stairs, careful not to slip and hurt either of them, leaving Dean and Sam free to break down the door and pry Andrea away from the watery grave the wrathful spirit had intended for her.

Lucas struggles against Elena's hold but she doesn't let up, not until Andrea herself comes down the stairs to sweep her son up into her arms directly from Elena's.

* * *

"Can you tell me?" Sam asks Andrea, keeping his voice low and soothing.

They're in the front room, morning sunlight streaming in through the windows, just the two of them. Dean is looking through the family albums to try to figure out how Jake is involved with Bill Carlton and Peter's ghost. Elena is with Lucas in his room, keeping him occupied.

"No, it doesn't make any sense," Andrea says, shaking her head in denial. She starts to cry. "I'm going crazy." She buries her face in her hands.

"No, you're not," Sam says, keeping his voice calm, but still deadly serious. "Tell me what happened, everything."

He keeps his eyes on her, everything about his posture and face portraying that he'll believe anything she tells him, as long as it's the truth.

"I heard-" she pauses, corrects herself, still unsure, "I thought I heard, um, there was this voice."

Sam nods encouragingly. "What did it say?"

She shakes her head, still unbelieving, but answers his question. "It said, 'come play with me.''

She heaves a sob, terrified. "What's happening?"

Back in the family archives, Dean hits the jackpot when he finds a photo album marked 'Jake – Age 12.'

He brings it into the room with Andrea and Sam, setting it on the table in front of her.

"Do you recognize the kids in these pictures?" Dean asks.

"What?" she responds, taken aback, but she looks again once she sees how serious Dean is. "Um, no, I mean, except that's my dad right there." She points him out. She adds, "He must've been about twelve in these pictures."

Dean turns to Sam.

"Chris Bar's drowning, the connection wasn't to Bill Carlton, it must have been to Sheriff."

Sam looks at the photographs. "Bill and the Sheriff, they were both involved with Peter."

"What about Chris? My dad? What are you talking about" Andrea asks, but Sam never gets to explain.

"Dean," Elena says, an undercurrent of urgency in her voice.

They all turn to see Lucas and Elena standing in the next room, Lucas with a tight grip on Elena's hand, staring out the window intently.

"Lucas? Lucas, what is it?" Dean asks.

He doesn't reply, just tugs Elena over to the front door, opening it and leading her out.

Dean looks at Elena who just shrugs helplessly.

He looks back at Sam and Andrea, who look just as confused, so they go to follow them out the door.

Lucas, honey?" Andrea calls after her son.

He doesn't reply, he just keeps tugging Elena on with him across the yard and into a small clearing in the trees, the others trailing after them.

He stops at a particular spot, looks up at Elena imploringly, and then back down at the spot in front of them. Dean steps forward in front of them, and Lucas looks up at him too.

"Elena, take Lucas and Andrea back to the house, okay?" Dean asks.

Elena nods, gently guiding Lucas towards his mom while Sam steps forward to stand beside Dean.

It doesn't take them very long to find shovels, and then they start to dig.

It takes them barely any time to dig it up.

"Peter's bike," Sam says.

"Who are you?" is asked followed by the distinct sound of a gun's safety unclicking.

Dean and Sam turn to see the Sheriff.

"Put the gun down, Jake," Sam says patiently.

"How did you know that was there?" he asks, ignoring Sam's request.

"What happened, you and Bill killed Peter, drowned him in the lake, and then buried the bike?"

Dean on the other hand, doesn't seem to be up to playing nice or patient.

"You can't bury the truth, Jake. Nothing stays buried."

* * *

Andrea and Elena are watching from inside. When Elena sees the gun she immediately heads for the door.

"Go to your room, sweetie, now. Lock the door and wait for me," Andrea tells Lucas. "Don't come out."

With that last command, she follows Elena out the door.

* * *

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about," Jake says grimly, so used to denying the truth, even to himself, that he can't bring himself to stop now.

"You and Bill killed Peter Sweeney thirty-five years ago," Dean replies instantly, refusing to put up with his bullshit. "That's what the hell we're talking about."

Elena arrives. "Put the gun down, Sheriff," she says, causing Jake to look over at her.

"Dad," Andrea yells, running up behind her, moving in front of Elena as quickly as she can.

"And now you got one seriously pissed-off spirit," Dean continues on, his jaw hardening when Jake's gun hand twitches, like he's going to point it at Elena instead, luckily Andrea's presence seems to stay the action.

"It's gonna take Andrea, Lucas, everyone you love," Sam says. "It's gonna drown them, and it's gonna drag their bodies God knows where, so you can feel the same pain Peter's mom felt."

Jake's gun lowers a fraction of an inch, so Sam continues.

"And then, after that, it's gonna take you, and it's not gonna stop until it does."

Jake sneers. "Yeah, and how do you know that?"

Sam's response is instantaneous.

"Because that's exactly what it did to Bill Carlton."

Elena jumps in, clearly seeing that Jake isn't willing to believe them.

"What's more important, keeping your secret or protecting your family?" she asks.

Dean shoots her a look, annoyed that she's drawing Jake's attention back to her, but Andrea's presence seems to prevent her father from pointing the gun on Elena, so he holds his peace.

"You can't take anything back, not what you did back then, not all the years you lied, and if you don't start telling the truth you won't be able to take back what will happen to them because of it."

Elena's voice is steady, lulling almost, and underneath there is a current of pain so intense it take Sam's breath away, dragging him towards all the dark thoughts he tries so valiantly to avoid.

Jake stares at her for a long time, mouth agape.

"We need to find the remains, salt and burn it," Dean says. "Tell me you buried him, tell me you didn't let him go in the lake."

"Dad, something tried to drown me, tell me this isn't true, tell me you didn't kill somebody," Andrea says, pleading.

Jake doesn't take his eyes off of Elena, seemingly turned to stone by her words. Before he can compose himself, explain that it was an accident, just an accident, just stupid, terrible kids not understanding the limits of the human body, he sees something out of the corner of his eye.

He's the first to see the small grey-clad figure down by the lake. The next second he is in the water, under the surface before anyone can blink.

"Lucas," he screams, already sprinting after him, the rest of them hot on his heels.

He is stopped short by the sight of Peter's decaying form in the lake, seeing becoming believing in an instant.

Sam and Dean sprint straight past him, Elena and Andrea at their heels.

Dean doesn't hesitate to dive in after him, Sam following after him immediately.

Andrea stops to take off her jacket, giving Elena just enough time to grab her around the waist and haul her back.

"Let me go, let me go, let me go," Andrea chants. "That's my son, let me go!"

Elena refuses.

"It wants you too," Elena reminds her. "It wants you too and it will just make it harder for them if they're trying to save both of you, they need to focus on Lucas. It wants you too, Andrea. Let them save him."

Her words finally seem to get through to Andrea, because she goes limp in her arms. Elena slips her arms around her shoulders, switching from restraint to comforting in seconds, Andrea sags against her.

Elena holds her breath, tries not to remember the feeling of drowning, tries to focus on Andrea to prevent the hysteria from welling up inside her.

Dean is in the water, and Elena remembers drowning.

A splash off to right gives her something to focus on, and Elena turns almost gratefully.

Jake is in the water now, wading in.

"Peter, if you can hear me, Peter please, I'm sorry," he says, begging. "I'm so-I'm so sorry."

"Dad, Daddy no," Andrea says, but she stays in Elena's arms.

"Lucas, he's just a little boy. Please, it's not his fault, it's mine. Please, take me."

Dean and Sam resurface empty-handed.

"Jake, no!" Dean yells as soon as he catches sight of him in the water

Jake ignores him.

"Just let it be over!"

He gets his wish, Peter pulls him under.

Dean dives back under just as Sam surfaces, shaking his head at Andrea and Elena on the shore to indicate that his unsuccessful attempt.

Andrea starts to sink to her knees, pulling Elena down with her just as Dean comes up with an unconscious Lucas in his arms.

* * *

Elena is standing out at the end of the docks, staring at the lake deep in thought. Sam can't help but think that it's almost like they're in conversation, the girl and the lake.

Dean is at the opposite end, watching her patiently, waiting for her to come back, Sam comes up to stand beside him.

"What happened to her?" Andrea asks from behind both of them.

Dean turns back, seeing the curious expression on both of their faces, he sighs.

"Elena's parents drowned in a lake when she was a teenager," he says grimly. "They were driving her home from a party, went off the bridge, she was the only survivor."

Sam inhales sharply, suddenly understanding Elena's reaction to the bridge back in Jericho, how much this particular case seemed to affect her.

"That's terrible," Andrea says sympathetically.

Dean shakes his head. "That's not the end of it, little over a year later, Elena was in another accident on that bridge, she was plunged back into the lake where her parents died. Not really the kind of thing you just get over."

"Jesus," Sam says numbly.

"Yeah," Dean agrees. "All things considered, I think she handled all of this pretty fantastically."

Sam nods emphatically.

"She's incredibly brave," Andrea says, clearly agreeing.

Dean smiles and nods. "Bravest person I know."

Andrea looks back at the house. "I want to thank her, thank all of you properly, before you go, but I need to get back to Lucas," she says. "Please, let me know when you're leaving."

They both nod.

"Of course," Sam says.

She heads back inside.

Dean and Sam turn back to Elena.

"After the second accident, that's when she left with you and Dad?" Sam asks.

Dean nods. "Yeah, she was pretty messed up afterwards, physically she was fine, barely a scratch on her, but, I don't think she ever stopped believing she was to blame for all of it."

Sam has nothing to say to that, can't formulate words, but Dean barely seems to be paying attention to him.

Dean starts down the dock suddenly, incapable of waiting any longer.

"Relax, Winchester, I'm fine," Elena says, beating him to the punch.

"You sure?" he asks. "You know it's okay if you aren't, it's always okay."

She shakes her head at him fondly.

"I'm okay," she reassures him.

She turns back to look at him, and there's a daring glint in her eye.

Sam is halfway to them when she reaches for the hem of her shirt, defiantly pulling it up over her head.

"Elena," Dean says warningly, but he's laughing too, and her shoes are off, she's wiggling out of her jeans.

Sam is honestly lost, doesn't understand until she's down to her underwear and diving into the lake without hesitation.

Dean understands though, Elena hates anything that holds her back, particularly fear, and she's almost foolhardy about facing her fears sometimes, like diving into a lake wearing barely anything in the middle of November kind of foolhardy.

Sam stops beside his brother.

"What is she doing?" Sam asks.

Dean shakes his head, still laughing.

"She's got this thing about challenges," he says like that explains it all.

"Yeah?" Sam asks.

"She can't resist 'em."

Elena surfaces, spins in the water to face them and gives Dean a look he recognizes all too well.

He sighs, kicks off his shoes, already unbuttoning his shirt.

"Hell, I can't either."

He dives in after her and Sam can do nothing but laugh in disbelief.

He sits down at the end of the dock, not quite as enthusiastic about the idea of diving into cold water with them just to prove a point.

"God, they're fucking weird," he says to no one in particular.

 **AN: Chapter Title from Raise the Dead by RAIGN. Thoughts? Comments? Questions? Drop me a line!**

 **xoxo**

 **-Pixie**


	5. I'm Overcoming Gravity

**AN: yeah life's just been Busy honestly. Anyway, here's chapter five, which means I am officially one fifth of the way** **done with this story, so that's promising. Anyway, I changed a few things from the show, mostly with the Latin, it always bothered me that they said _Christos_ was the name of God when it's actually the name of Christ. I mean, I know it would have the same effect on a demon, but the details count to me lol.**

 **Oh! Also, there seems to be some concern about the nature of Dean and Elena's relationship, I don't wanna give too much away, but trust me, friends, this is marked Deanlena for a reason. I guess it isn't explicitly labeled, but you all have the great misfortune of reading a slow burn. Like, the slowest slow burn, but I promise, Deanlena will happen before the last chapter.**

 **Anyway, please accept this chapter as my apology for having horrible time management skills. Enjoy!**

 **Addendum**

 _(n.)_

 _A thing to be added; an addition._

 **Chapter Five**

 **Phantom Traveler**

 **aka**

 **I'm Overcoming Gravity**

Dean is the only one who likes to sleep in. Sam still has nightmares, so he avoids sleeping as much as he can. Elena seems to thrive on very little sleep, she's up before the sun every day to run. Sam is thankful that she doesn't nag him about his poor sleeping habits, but Dean is another story entirely.

"Good morning, Sunshine," Sam says cheerfully when he gets back.

Dean is just waking up, groaning and resentful, and Elena isn't quite back yet.

"What time is it?" Dean asks groggily.

"It's about 5:45," Sam answers peppily.

"In the morning?" Dean's tone is incredulous.

"Yep."

Dean grimaces.

"Where does the day go?" he says sarcastically. He rolls over, sees that Elena is gone, rolls his eyes. "She's insane."

"Did you get any sleep?" he asks Sam.

"Yeah, I grabbed a couple hours," Sam says.

"Liar." Dean calls him out instantly, sitting up. "I was up at three, and you were watching a George Foreman infomercial."

Sam shrugs, somewhat defensive.

"Elena barely sleeps," Sam reminds him.

"Elena runs on caffeine, Sammy, she's not like us mere mortals, the less she sleeps, the stronger she gets."

Dean says this all so seriously that Sam's not entirely sure he's joking, so he takes his word for it.

"When was the last time you got a good night's sleep?" Dean asks, refusing to let Sam distract him with Elena's awful sleeping habits.

"I don't know, a little while I guess," Sam answers casually. "It's not a big deal."

"Yeah it is," Dean says immediately, refusing to let him make light of it.

"Look, I appreciate your concern." Sam's deflecting, and they both know it.

"I'm not concerned about you, you have to have our backs, you keep us alive, we keep you alive. We need you sharp."

Sam opens his mouth to once again remind him of how little Elena sleeps, but Dean ignores him.

"Elena's more than proved that she can do her damn job and watch my back with very little sleep," Dean says, anticipating it. "You haven't. Seriously, are you still having nightmares about Jess?"

Sam sighs heavily, moves to sit down on the other bed.

"Yeah," he says finally. "But it's not just her," he admits, handing a coffee over to Dean. "It's everything, I just forgot, you know? This job, man, it gets to you."

Dean shakes his head.

"You can't let it, you can't bring it home like that," he says, like it's simple and easy.

"So, what, all this, it never keeps you up at night?"

Dean shrugs, shakes his head.

"Never? You're never afraid?" Sam asks, unbelieving.

"No, not really," Dean says casually.

Sam scoffs, leans forward and pulls the knife out from under Dean's pillow, waving in his face in emphasis.

"That's not fear, that's precaution," Dean says, taking back his knife.

"All right, whatever, I'm too tired to argue." Sam gives in.

Elena comes back then, covered in sweat, her ponytail a bit messy, and of course she still looks perfect, like a Nike ad for women.

"Morning," she says, looking amused at finding Dean awake this early.

"Morning," they chorus.

Dean gets a sly look in his eyes. "Hey, 'Lena, what's in your sock?" he asks, his voice full of casual innocence.

Without blinking she pulls a butterfly knife out of her sock and Sam blinks in surprise.

"I like to be prepared," she answers with a shrug, already gathering her clothes for the day and heading for the shower.

"You never know what could happen."

Dean gives Sam an I-Told-You-So look just as his phone starts to ring. He grabs it, looking confused at the idea of anyone calling him this early/

"Hello?" he answers.

"Dean, it's Jerry Panowski."

Sam is close enough that he can hear what the man on the other line is saying.

"You and your dad helped me out a couple years back."

The confusion clears from Dean's face.

"Oh, right, yeah, up in Kittanning, Pennsylvania, the poltergeist thing," Dean says, remembering him now. "It's not back, is it?"  
"No, no," Jerry says, chuckling a little. "Thank God, no. But it's something else, and well, I think it could be a lot worse."

"Well, what is it?" Dean asks.

"Can we talk in person?" Jerry requests instead of answering.

* * *

"Thanks for making the trip so quick," Jerry says. "I oughta be doing you guys a favor, not the other way around. Dean and your dad really helped me out." He's leading them through his workplace to his office, Sam by his side with Elena and Dean lagging behind.

"Yeah, he told me. It was a poltergeist?" Sam asks, more out of politeness than real interest.

"'Poltergeist'? Man, I love that movie!" One of the workers calls out as he crosses their path, giving Elena an appreciative once-over that she completely misses.

Dean, true to form, does not miss it, and glares him down until Jerry chastises him.

"Hey, nobody's talking to you, keep walking," he says, giving Elena a sheepish smile that she returns with barely a hint of confusion even if she'd missed the entire reason for Dean's ire.

"Damn right it was a poltergeist," he continues on once he's out of earshot. "Practically tore our house apart."

He turns back to Dean.

"Tell you something, if it wasn't for you and your dad, I probably wouldn't be alive." he shakes his head, turning back to face forward, turning left past a plane engine.

"Your dad said you were off at college, is that right?" he asks Sam, having already easily accepted Dean's explanation for Elena's presence – a family friend that John had taken in when her father died a few years ago.

"Yeah, I was," Sam replies. "I'm…taking some time off."

"Well, he was real proud of you, I could tell," Jerry says, surprising Sam. "He talked about you all the time."

"He did?" Sam asks, taken aback.

"Yeah, you bet he did," he says casually before turning to Dean. "Oh hey, you know I tried to get ahold of him, but I couldn't."

He turns forward again, completely casual and unaware of anything amiss with the other three.

"How's he doing anyway?"

Sam and Elena look to Dean, who improvises.

"He's, uh, wrapped up in a job right now," he finally settles on, since it isn't a complete lie.

"Well, we're missing the old man," Jerry says as he pivots back to face Sam and Elena. "We get Sam."

He takes both of Elena's hands in his, and she lets him, amused. "And this beautiful one," he adds, beaming at her, and she smiles at his antics. "Even trade."

He drops her hands and turns back to continue to lead them towards their destination.

"She's a helluva lot more than just a pretty face," Dean says, because as often as he teases her about her looks, he knows better than anyone exactly what she's capable of in their line of duty, and it still impresses the hell out of him, as much as he has to do with it.

Elena mouths an 'awww' at him and gives him a sappy look and bumps against his shoulder so he rolls his eyes at her and swings an arm around her shoulders to give her an affectionate squeeze.

Sam looks away to hide his smirk when he leaves his arm there.

"Oh, I don't doubt it," Jerry is saying, shaking his head. "Your dad wouldn't suffer any amateurs."

Sam nods in agreement. "He certainly wouldn't," he mutters under his breath, more to himself than anyone else.

"I admit, I wouldn't have imagined John Winchester taking in a friend's kid, but he's a good guy."

Elena smiles and nods.

"Yeah, well, he's always done his best by me."

Sam tries not to let his surprise show on his face, that's the most complimentary thing he's ever heard Elena say about his father, and while he can't pretend he knows her as well as Dean does, he has the feeling that she sincerely means her words.

Whatever arguments she might have with their father, she really does seem to believe that he means well.

If only he knew why his father had gone through all this trouble for her, what could be after that she had spent the last two years of her life on the run, as a hunter no less. Why would hunting monsters and risking her life for perfect strangers be a viable option for someone who was heavily implied to be on the run for her life?

"I got something I want you guys to hear."

* * *

"I listened to this, well it sounded like it was up your alley."

Jerry puts the CD into the machine, he's sitting behind his desk, with the three of them on the other side. With only two guest chairs in his room, he'd attempted to give his up for Elena, but she'd waved him off, forcing Dean into one of the chairs opposite him before easily and comfortable perching on the arm of his chair before Sam could even think to offer her the other chair. Bemused, he'd sank down into the empty chair, knowing better than to argue with her by now.

"Normally I wouldn't have access to this," Jerry admits. "It's the cockpit voice recorder for United Britannia flight 2485, it was one of ours."

He lets the audio play, all of them focusing on the white noise distorting the captain's mayday cries along with the sound of the plane crashing. Those sounds cut off abruptly, replaced with a distinct and horrific growling noise. The audio ends.

"Took off from here, crashed about two hundred miles south," Jerry explains. "Now, they're saying mechanical failure, the cabin depressurized somehow. Nobody knows why. Over a hundred people on board, only seven got out alive. The pilot was one, his name is Chuck Lambert, he's a good friend of mine. Chuck is, uh…" he trails off.

"Well, he's pretty broken up about it, like it was his fault."

Sam cocks his head to the side. "You don't think it was?" he asks, trying to get the lay of the land.

"No, I don't," Jerry says plainly.

"Jerry, we're gonna need passenger manifests, a list of survivors," Sam starts.

"Right, and any way we can take a look at the wreckage?" Dean throws in.

"The other stuff is no problem," Jerry says right away. "But the wreckage, the NTSB has it locked down in an evidence warehouse." He shakes his head. "No way I've got that kind of clearance."

Dean nods his head in understanding.

"No problem," he says easily before turning to look up at Elena with a wicked grin.

* * *

"You've been in there forever," Sam complains when Dean finally resurfaces from the copy store.

Elena is sprawled across the trunk of the Impala, like a cat in the sun, but she still lets out a lazy hum of agreement.

"You can't rush perfection." Dean waves the cards in front of Sam's face, showing off their brand new identities. He whacks one of Elena's boots. "Get off my car," he says, like they haven't had this conversation a million times and like he doesn't know she's going to do it again the second he's out of sight.

She lets out an annoyed little whine but crawls off the car at his request, glaring at him when her eyes finally open.

"Homeland Security?" Sam questions, ignoring them. "That's pretty illegal, even for us." He glances at Elena. "And Elena doesn't look old enough to take the entrance exam, let alone be a fully-fledged field agent," he points out. "No offense, Elena," he adds.

She waves a dismissive hand at him. "You only say that because you haven't seen what I can do with a makeup brush."

Dean nods in agreement.

"Homeland Security?" Sam repeats, going back to his first concern.

"It's something new, you know?" Dean says, rationalizing his choice as he walks around to the driver's side. "People haven't seen it a thousand times."

He opens Elena's door for her before his own, without thought. Sam doesn't comment. If he commented every time Dean acted like Elena's boyfriend, he'd lose his voice, or his tongue, depending on how generous Dean was feeling.

"All right, what do you got?" Dean ask once they're all in their seats, indicating to Sam's laptop.

"Well, there's definitely E.V.P. on the cockpit voice recorder."

"Yeah?"

Sam nods. "Listen." He presses play.

The pilot's voice comes out distorted as all hell, but then, clear and insidious – " _no surviiivors_ "

"Creeeepyyy," Elena singsongs from the backseat.

"'No survivors'?" Dean repeats, ignoring her. "What's that supposed to mean? There were seven survivors."

"Got me," Sam says, shaking his head.

Elena chimes in.

"Whatever it is, it's not going to be pretty."

Dean shoots her a look, but nods in agreement.

"So, what are we thinking? A haunted flight?" Dean asks, prompting them both for more theories.

Sam starts. "There's a long history of spirits and death omens on planes and ships, like phantom travelers."

Dean hums in agreement.

"Or uh, remember flight 401?"

Dean nods then looks back at Elena, pop quiz time.

She rolls her eyes but complies.

"The one that crashed and the airline salvaged some of its parts, put it in other planes, then the spirit of the pilot and the copilot haunted those flights."

Sam nods, but Elena looks at Dean expectantly.

"Did I get it right, teach?" she asks teasingly.

He grins. "Sure did, A plus."

Elena spins her finger in a circle, her deadpan celebration making Dean laugh.

Sam bites back a joke about teacher's pet, and forges on.

"Yeah well, maybe we got a similar deal."

Dean reaches for the papers Jerry gave them.

"All right, survivors, which one do you wanna talk to first?"

Sam's reply is instant.

"Third on the list, Max Jaffey."

"Why him?" Elena asks.

"Well, for one, he's from around here, and two, if anyone saw anything weird, he did."

Dean looks at him.

"What makes you say that?" Dean asks.

"Well, I spoke to his mother, and she told me where to find him."

* * *

"I don't understand, I already spoke with Homeland Security?"

The three hunters followed Max as he walks across the grounds.

"Right," Dean nods. "Some new information has come up." He offers vaguely.

"So if you could just answer a couple of questions."

Sam takes over.

"Just before the plane went down, did you notice anything unusual?" he asks.

"Like what?"

His tone is terse, without a word between the three of them, Elena takes over.

"Strange lights, weird voices, maybe, voice?" she lists, her voice soft and soothing, her tone curious, but warm.

Max stares at her.

"No, nothing," he insists.

She smiles, devastatingly perfect.

"Lying to a Federal Agent is a crime, Mr. Jaffey," she says her voice gentle and lulling still, without a sour note to it.

Sam manages to refrain from making a face at the fact that impersonating a Federal Agent is an even bigger crime.

"You checked yourself in here, right?" she asks, breezing past her accusations before he can deny it.

He nods.

"Can we ask why?" It's Dean's turn again, but Max doesn't take his eyes off of Elena.

"I was a little stressed," he answers, stating the obvious. "I survived a plane crash."

"And that's what terrified you?" Elena cuts in, smoothly.

Sam doesn't even consider jumping in, it's almost mesmerizing the way the two of them work together.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," Max says, avoiding the question.

"I think maybe you did see something up there." Dean jumps in.

"We need to know what." Elena leans forward as she says it, inviting.

"No, no," Max says, more to himself than any of them. "I was delusional, I was seeing things." He says all of this like he's trying to convince himself, comfort himself.

"He was seeing things," Dean repeats, turning to Sam with a straight-faced look.

"Tell us what you thought you saw," Elena suggests. "Please," she adds, not at all above using all of the powers she's been given to get what she wants.

Her powers are substantial, and ultimately, effective.

"There was this…man," he starts reluctantly. "And he had these eyes…these, uh, black eyes…and I saw him, I _thought_ I saw him," he corrects himself. He stops.

"What?" Dean asks, his tone impatient.

Elena reaches out to touch Dean's wrist, stopping him.

"What did you think you saw, Max?" Elena asks.

"He opened the emergency exit."

They all stared at him until he began to speak again, hastily.

"But that's impossible, right?" He's rambling now. "I mean, I looked it up, there's something like two tons of pressure on that door."

Dean nods in agreement absentmindedly, lost in thought.

Sam takes over.

"This man, did he seem to disappear and reappear rapidly? It would look something like a mirage."

Max looks him up and down.

"What are you, nuts?"

Sam looks taken aback.

"He was a passenger," Max explains. "He was sitting right in front of me."

The three hunters exchange looks.

"Thank you, for your time, Mr. Jaffey," Elena says.

"You are welcome," he replies, putting emphasis on the 'you'.

Dean rolls his eyes.

"Seriously?" he mutters under his breath.

Sam fights back a laugh.

* * *

"So here we are, George Phelps, seat 20C," Sam announces as they pull up to the curb outside of an expectantly ordinary looking house.

"Man, I don't care how strong you are," Dean is saying as he climbs out of the driver seat, opening Elena's door for her. "Even yoked up on PCP or something, no way you can open up an emergency door during a flight."

Elena hums in agreement.

"Not if you're human," Sam says, stating the obvious. "But maybe this guy George was something else, some kind of creature, maybe in human form?"

Dean points at the house. "Does that look like a creature's lair to you?"

Elena's response is immediate.

"Yes, totally."

Both brothers turn to look at her and she shrugs.

"Hiding in plain sight is a pretty common tactic," she reminds them.

"That's true," Dean concedes, swinging an easy arm around her shoulders, still a little annoyed that their mental patient witness had hit on her. "This is why you're the star student, 'Lena."

She just laughs and shoves him off of her, the two of them completely at ease with each other.

Sam, on the other hand, can't shake off her certainty. He doesn't know of very many creatures that live in suburban homes, after all.

"This is your late husband?" Sam asks tactfully, looking at the photograph of a man he's taken from the coffee table.

Mrs. Phelps nods.

"Yes, that was my George."

"And you said he was a dentist?"

She nods again at Dean's question.

"He was headed to a convention in Denver." She pauses. "Do you know that he was petrified to fly?"

Dean blinks in surprise, but she doesn't seem to notice, barely holding back her tears.

"For him to go like that…" she trails off, her emotions getting the better of her.

Elena leans forward, touches her on the arm and gives her a sympathetic look.

"We are so very sorry for your loss," she says softly.

Mrs. Phelps gives her a grateful smile.

"How long were you married?" Sam asks.

She smiles again then, her eyes soft with memories.

"Thirteen years," she answers.

"In all that time, did you ever notice anything strange about him? Anything out of the ordinary?"

They all collectively hold their breath while she seems to think about this unusual question.

"Well, uh, he had acid reflux, if that's what you mean," she finally answers.

Dean and Sam look at each other, already certain that they've been met with another dead end. They're about to make their excuses to leave but then Elena asks another question.

"Did your husband have any jewelry that he wore all the time?" she asks. "A ring, or a bracelet, maybe a family heirloom, something that you never saw him take off?"

Both brothers turn to look at her, caught off guard by her question, but she ignores them to focus on Mrs. Phelps.

When Mrs. Phelps gives her a slightly startled look, Elena pats her hand reassuringly.

"It could help with the body identification," she says delicately.

"Oh," Mrs. Phelps says in morbid understanding, but then she shakes her head. "No, nothing like that, not besides his wedding ring and his watch, and both of those were rather unremarkable I'm afraid."

* * *

"What did you mean by the jewelry question?" Sam asks as soon as they're outside.

Elena shrugs casually.

"Witches can do some pretty interesting things with jewelry," she says evasively.

Dean nods in understanding suddenly.

"That's right, your family has heirloom rings that can bring you back from the dead if you're killed by a supernatural force."

Sam looks at her in surprise.

She shrugs. "A witch was in love with one of my ancestors. He saw himself as something of an inventor, and she liked to secretly fix all of his inventions so they actually worked."

"That's amazing," Sam says, instantly fascinated by the idea in general but also perfectly aware that this is only the second time Elena has referenced her family's long history of entanglement with the supernatural.

Elena shrugs. "It didn't lead us anywhere though," she reminds him. Pointedly, she starts towards the Impala, both boys behind her.

Taking the hint, Sam switches back to the case.

"It goes without saying, it just doesn't make any sense."

Catching on, Dean continues his train of thought.

"Yeah, a middle-aged dentist with an ulcer's not exactly evil personified."

Elena climbs into the backseat just as the boys get to the car, so she leaves the door open in order to hear their discussion.

"You know what we need to do is get inside that NTSB warehouse, check out the wreckage."

Dean looks at Sam, the only hold out on his plan.

He relents. "Okay, but if we're gonna go that route, we better look the part," Sam says, looking at Dean meaningfully.

Dean groans.

"Fine."

They get into the car, so Elena finally closes her door.

"You know those rings are badass, and damn useful, why don't you have one, again?" Dean asks Elena, suddenly remembering the past topic.

She shrugs. "They're passed down through the male bloodline," she answers evasively.

Dean shakes his head.

"That's a damn shame."

He starts the car.

Her answer is soft enough that it almost gets lost in the roar of the engine.

"I don't know, the consequences are pretty dire."

Sam is left wondering exactly what the consequences are.

* * *

"Man, I look like one of the Blues Brothers," Dean says, coming out of the tuxedo rental shop, tugging uncomfortably at his collar.

"No you don't," Sam says, fiddling with his own collar. "You look more like a seventh-grader at his first dance."

He smirks at Dean who gives himself a once over.

"I hate this thing," Dean says declaratively.

"Hey, you want into that warehouse or not?" Sam asks.

Elena comes up behind Dean, catching the end of their conversation.

"I think you look hot," she says, causing Dean to spin around.

She smiles teasingly at him, raising an eyebrow as she steps forward to fix his tie.

He gives her a playful glare, but his shoulders relax.

Sam ducks his head to hide a smirk.

Elena's gifts are a truly powerful thing.

"You don't look so bad yourself," Dean says, eyeing her appreciatively.

She's wearing a dove grey blazer and a matching pencil skirt, with a deep red blouse and shiny black pumps. She'd had to go find a department store, since they didn't exactly rent business wear for women.

"A pencil skirt for a field assignment?" Sam asks speculatively.

"People tend to overlook a girl in a skirt," Elena points out. "They're too busy focusing on other things," she adds archly.

Sam has no reply to that, but he can't help but wonder at the way Elena seems to strategize everything she does or says, right down to what she wears.

Elena has never seemed all that fond of their father, but Sam has a hunch his father can at least appreciate this about Elena's character.

They head towards the Impala which is parked right outside the tux rental.

"Yeah well that's 'cause they don't really know you," Dean is saying. "If they did, they'd never make the mistake of underestimating you."

Elena grins at him.

"I like it when they underestimate me," she admits.

"Yeah, I know you do," he says, shaking his head at her as he opens her door.

She slides in gracefully, like she wears heels and pencil skirts everyday instead of boots and jeans.

"Hell, I guess I like it too, it's damn useful."

* * *

The security guard lets them through with little fuss, he stares a little too long at Elena, but she gives him a look that could freeze the sun and he quickly straightens his spine and lets them through.

He doesn't see Dean give Elena a low, discreet fist bump, or the dirty look he throws over his shoulder at him.

Inside the warehouse, Dean gets straight to work, pulling a device out of his pocket.

"What's that?" Sam asks.

"It's an EMF reader, it reads electromagnetic frequencies," he explains, unwinding the earphones and putting them in.

"Yeah, I know what an EMF reader is," Sam says impatiently. "But why does that one look like a busted-up Walkman?"

Dean looks down at it and back up at Sam.

"'Cause that's what I made it out of," he says with a grin. He holds it up. "It's homemade," he reiterates, clearly pleased with himself.

Elena grins at his jubilation.

"Yeah, I can see that," Sam says with irony.

Dean's grin fades.

"Don't worry, Dean, I think it's cool," Elena says, shooting Sam a chastising glare. "Unlike Debby Downer here."

"Thank you, Elena," Dean says, shooting Sam a glare of his own.

Cowed, Sam turns back to the wreckage.

Dean turns on his EMF reader and begins to walk amongst the wreckage, listening for any abnormalities in the static.

When they approach a particular piece of wreckage the reader begins to admit a high-pitched frequency.

"Check out the emergency door handle," Dean says.

Rubbing his finger along the edge of it, it comes away coated in black powder with a sticky consistency.

"What is this stuff?"

"One way to find out," Sam replies, pulling out a pocket knife and a plastic baggie.

Carefully he scraps some of it into the bag, pocketing it for later.

Elena cocks her head to the side, listening.

"Sounds like we have company," she says calmly, referring to the sound of fast-paced footsteps.

Without a word they move towards the emergency exit on the other side of the wreckage. Within seconds of them making it outside, the alarms begin to blare.

Moving more quickly, they approach a gate, Sam and Dean easily scaling it.

"These monkey suits do come in handy," Dean says, referring to how he'd used his jacket to cushion the barbed-wire.

Elena, still on the other side of the fence, makes an impatient hand gesture, and they both quickly turn around.

A second later they hear her heels hit the ground and they turn around in time to see her tugging her skirt back down. Sam tries not to blush at the thought of how inappropriately high it must've been a minute ago.

Elena tosses Dean his suit jacket that he'd thoughtfully left over the barbed-wire for her.

The three of them all make a run for it now that they're all on the right side of the fence and are decently covered.

* * *

"Huh," Jerry finally says after examining the residue under a microscope. "This stuff is covered in sulfur."

"You're sure?" Sam asks.

"Take a look for yourself," Jerry invites, already moving towards the door. "If you'll excuse me, I have an idiot to fire," he says, referring to the man yelling and banging on a delicate piece of equipment out in the work area.

Dean moves over to see for himself.

"Yeah, there's not too many things that leave behind a sulfuric residue," he points out.

"Demonic possession?" Sam questions, not quite willing to believe.

"It would explain how a mortal man would have the strength to open up an emergency hatch."

Sam sighs. "if the guy was possessed, it's possible," he agrees.

"Yeah, but this goes way beyond floating above a bed or barfing pea soup—"

"Ew," Elena interjects, sitting in Jerry's chair with her heels off.

Dean shoots her a look but continues on with his train of thought.

"It's one thing to possess a person, but to use 'em to take down an entire airplane?"

Sam shakes his head.

"You ever heard of something like this before?"

Dean's reply is instantaneous.

"Never."

* * *

Back in the hotel room, in their own clothes, Sam types away at his laptop, organizing his research. They've already hit the library, but Elena had taken one look at Sam's drooping eyelids and insisted they go get something to eat and continue in the privacy of their own room.

"So every religion in every world culture has the concept of demons and demonic possession, right?" Sam starts. "Christian, Native American, Hindu, you name it."

Dean is seated at the end of the bed, Elena sprawled across it.

"Yeah, but none of them describe anything like this," Dean points out.

"Well, that's not exactly true," Sam says, contradicting him. "You see, according to Japanese beliefs, certain demons are behind certain disasters, both natural and man-made. One causes earthquakes, another causes disease," he lists.

"And this one causes plane crashes?" Dean ask speculatively. "All right, what, so we have a demon that's evolved with the times and found a way to ratchet up the body count?"

"Yeah," Sam says softly. "You know, who knows how many planes it's brought down before this one."

They're all silent for a moment, until Dean breaks it with a disbelieving little laugh.

"What?" Sam asks.

"I don't know, man, this isn't our normal gig," he says. "I mean, demons, they don't want anything, just death and destruction for its own sake. This is big." He pauses. "I wish Dad was here," he finally admits.

"Yeah, me too," Sam agrees.

Elena doesn't say anything, just sits up and wraps her arms around her legs, but she nods. As often as she argues with John, his certainty is always reassuring in the face of new challenges.

Dean goes to sit next to her.

Dean's cell phone ringing breaks the moment and he goes to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Dean, it's Jerry."

"Oh, hey Jerry."

"My pilot friend…Chuck Lambert, is dead."

"Jerry, I'm sorry, what happened?"

"He and his buddy went up in a small twin about an hour ago, the plane went down."

"Where'd this happen?"

"About sixty miles west of here, near Nazareth."

"I'll try to ignore the irony in that."

"I'm sorry?"

"Nothing. Hey Jerry, hang in there, all right? We'll catch up with you soon?"

Dean hangs up.

"Is now really the time to be making biblical jokes, Dean?" Elena asks, having heard the entire conversation due to proximity.

Dean ignores her.

"Another crash?" Sam asks.

"Yeah, let's go," Dean says, focused once again.

"Where?" Sam asks.

"Nazareth," Dean replies, and Sam understands Dean's urge to make biblical jokes despite everything.

* * *

Back in Jerry's office he confirms that once again it was sulfuric residue found on the wreckage they'd visited in Nazareth.

"All right, that's two plane crashes involving Chuck Lambert, this demon sounds like it was after him," Dean theorizes.

"With all due respect to Chuck," Sam starts, holding his hands up in a placating manner before continuing, "if that's the case, that would be the good news."

"What's the bad news?" Elena asks.

"Chuck's plane went down exactly forty minutes into the flight," Sam pauses, then adds, "and get this, so did flight 2485."

"Forty minutes, what does that mean?" Jerry interjects.

Dean taps Elena on the shoulder, time for his star student to show off.

"It's biblical numerology," she says, looking at Dean, and when he nods approvingly, she continues, "you know, Noah's Ark, it rained for forty days. The number means death."

Dean, never one to resist a little teasing, even in the face of such a serious moment, reaches over to draw an A+ on Elena's arm. She rolls her eyes at him, smiling all the while.

"I went back and there have been six plane crashes over the last decade that all went down exactly forty minutes in," Sam says.

"Any survivors?" Dean asks.

Sam shakes his head. "No, or, not until now, at least. Not until flight 2485, for some reason."

"The cockpit voice recorder," Elena interjects suddenly. "Remember what the E.V.P. said?"

"'No survivors'," Sam answers.

"It's going after all the survivors," Dean concludes grimly. "It's trying to finish the job."

* * *

In the Impala on the way to the airport, Sam figures out the logistics of which survivors are at immediate risk through the use of phony survey phone calls.

The only wildcard is Amanda Walker, the flight attendant.

"Her sister Karen says her flight leaves Indianapolis at 8 PM, it's her first night back on the job," Sam reports.

Dean sighs. "Well that sounds like just our luck," he says, grumbling a bit.

"Dean, this is a five hour drive, man, even with you behind the wheel," Sam says worriedly.

"Why don't you call Amanda's cell phone again," Dean says by way of response. "See if we can't head her off at the pass."

"I already left her three voice messages," Sam reminds him. "She must've turned her cell phone off."

Sam rubs his hair in frustration. "God, we're never gonna make it."

Elena abruptly flicks him in the back of the head, and when he turns around she's glaring at him.

"We will," she says, and he has no choice but to hope she's right.

When he turns back around, he can see just the hint of a smile hanging off the corner of Dean's mouth.

Elena leans back into her seat as Dean accelerates.

* * *

They get there with thirty minutes to spare, Dean uses the courtesy phone to try to convince Amanda not to get on the flight, going through several ridiculous stories, everything from a fake car accident to an prank arranged by an ex. Ultimately, none of them work, with no other choice, they set out to get themselves onto flight 242 with Amanda.

Dean, however, is slightly resistant to the idea at first.

"Dean, that plane is leaving with over a hundred passengers onboard, and if we're right," Sam lowers his voice, "that plane is gonna crash."

"I know," Dean says with extra emphasis, his eyes wide.

"We're getting on the plane, we need to find that demon and exorcise it," Sam says with finality.

Dean looks at Elena, who nods in complete agreement.

"Look, I'll get the tickets," Sam continues, completely bulldozing Dean. "You and Elena just go get whatever you can out of the trunk, whatever'll make it through security. Meet me back here in five minutes."

Sam starts to leave, but Elena stops him, gesturing towards Dean's panicked face.

"Are you okay?" Elena asks.

"No, not really," he admits.

"What? What's wrong?" Sam asks.

"Well, I kind of have this problem with, uh…" Dean sweeps his hand in a quick upward motion, unwilling to say it out loud.

"Flying?" Sam looks at him in disbelief.

"It's never really been an issue until now," Dean says defensively.

"You're joking, right?" Sam asks.

"Do I look like I'm joking?" Dean snaps. "Why do you think I drive everywhere, Sam?"

"Sam and I could do it without you?" Elena suggests.

Dean shakes his head.

"No, Sam said it, the plane's gonna crash, we need all hands on deck," he says with determination.

Elena exhales through her nose.

"Dean, Sam and I can get on that plane, or we can all get on that plane, but there isn't a version where we can do this on the ground at this point," she says with finality.

Sam nods in agreement.

Dean stares at them.

"Oh, fuck me."

* * *

Once they're on the plane, Elena quickly takes control, shooing Sam into the window seat, taking the middle in order to put a little distance between the brothers, since despite himself, Sam couldn't help but find a bit of humor in Dean's fear. Especially after his ill-timed speech about not letting the job get to you.

"Just try to relax," Sam says to Dean, leaning forward to see him past Elena.

"Just try to shut up," Dean retorts.

Sam just laughs but Elena gives him a scolding look.

The plane starts to take off, and without a word Elena slips her fingers into Dean's, pulling his hand into her lap.

He doesn't say anything, just wraps his fingers around hers so tightly both of their knuckles go white.

Dean closes his eyes, but they snap open at the sound of the wheels retracting into the plane.

Elena wraps her other hand around the wrist of the hand she's holding, stroking the inside of his wrist gently.

Sam bites his lip and looks out the darkened window. It turns out Elena is just as good at acting like Dean's girlfriend as he is acting like her boyfriend. They're a perfect, stupid couple.

* * *

They barely make it through takeoff before Dean starts to lose it a little, his grip on Elena's hand is iron tight.

She sighs, releases her hand from around his wrist, pushing the seat's arm between them out of the way. She leans across him and twists her torso until they're chest to chest, her free hand stroking his hair as she whispers in his ear.

Sam has a dozen comments about personal space on the tip of his tongue, because really, the only reason she isn't literally in Dean's lap right now is because of her seatbelt, but he restrains himself. After all, if Dean needs Elena sprawled across his lap and whispering in his ear to keep him calm, then Sam can't say much.

After a moment, Sam realizes that Elena isn't whispering, she's humming.

"You're humming Metallica?" he asks her, bemused.

"It calms me down," Dean answers for her, his voice slightly muffled by her ponytail.

Their intertwined hands are resting in Elena's lap still, an older woman across the aisle is looking at the two of them like they're the cutest thing she's ever seen.

Sam badly wants to point it out to Dean, because it's hilarious, but he knows they have to focus on finding the flight attendant and the demon, so he lets it go.

He checks his watch.

"We've got thirty-two minutes and counting to track this thing down, or whoever it's possessing anyway, and perform a full on exorcism," Sam says, trusting that Elena can both listen to what he's saying and continue keeping his brother calm.

"Yeah, on a crowded plane, that's gonna be easy," Dean replies.

"We'll just take it one step at a time, all right?" Sam suggests. "Now, who is it possessing?"

"Well, it's usually gonna be somebody with some sort of weakness, you know, a chink in the armor that the demon can worm through. Somebody with an addiction or some sort of emotional distress" Dean stops, realizing he could be describing himself.

Elena finally pulls back to look at Dean, her upper body still mostly in his lap. She grips his open collar in her hand, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Dean Winchester, the only weakness you might have right now is how much of my hair you've probably swallowed." Her tone is commanding, and it's almost like her saying it makes it true, because Dean laughs, and uses his free hand to flick her ponytail over her shoulder in an exaggerated manner.

Sam finds himself relaxing a little, Elena has a knack for that kind of thing after all.

"Well, this is Amanda's first flight after the crash," Sam reminds them, easily imagining an alternative, he adds, "If I were her, I'd be pretty messed up."

Dean nods and hums his agreement.

"Smart thinking, as always, Sam," Elena says, pushing herself off of Dean and back into her own seat finally.

She keeps hold of Dean's hand though, Sam notices.

"Excuse me, are you Amanda?" Dean asks the flight attendant passing them.

She shakes her head. "No, I'm not."

"Oh, my mistake," Dean replies.

She hums, smiles at Elena who returns it with one of her blinding ones, and then moves on.

Dean looks back, seeing another flight attendant sorting out the beverage cart.

"All right, well that's gotta be Amanda back there, so, I'll go talk to her, and uh, get a read on her mental state."

Sam nods.

"What if she's already possessed?" he asks.

"There's ways to test that," Dean leans down, pulling a bottle out of their carry on. "I brought holy water."

Sam shakes his head, takes it from him, putting it in his jacket.

"No," he says decisively. "I think we can go more subtle. If she's possessed, she'll flinch at the name of God."

Dean shrugs.

"Oh, nice," he agrees, getting ready to leave, but Elena stops him.

"I should go," she says, shaking her head before he can protest, clearly knowing that he thinks she's suggesting it because of his flying anxiety. "Girl talk," she reminds him, unbuckling her seatbelt.

"How are you going to work the name of God into girl talk?" Sam asks, genuinely curious.

Elena stands, giving Dean's hand one last squeeze before she lets go.

"Sam, girl talk can be about anything."

On that note, Elena starts to make her way back towards Amanda.

"Hey," Sam says, getting her to turn back. "Say it in Latin," he advises.

She gives an impatient nod, moving to leave again.

"Hey," Sam says again, she rolls her eyes as she turns back. "In Latin it's-"

" _Deus_ , I know," Elena says, interrupting him.

"Good luck," Dean says.

She squeezes his shoulder in response as she walks away.

"Dude, you really think Dad let her anywhere near a hunt without knowing basic Latin?" Dean gives him a look. He rolls his shoulders a bit, looking tense.

Sam ducks his head somewhat sheepishly. It is a good point. Their father has high standards for what he considers rudimentary hunting skills.

"How do you think she's gonna work _Deus_ into a normal conversation?" Sam wonders aloud after a moment.

"It's Elena, she'll think of something," Dean replies, speaking through clenched teeth.

Recognizing that without Elena there Dean has to control his fear all on his own, Sam decides to just keep quiet and let him do just that.

Sam looks back as discreetly as he can.

Amanda is talking, and Elena has given the other woman her full attention.

"You know, it's still a little disconcerting, how much people like her," Sam says, not necessarily expecting Dean to answer.

He does. He laughs a little.

"Yeah, you'll get used to it eventually," Dean says rather fondly.

Sam raises an eyebrow.

"So you're used to?"

Dean shrugs. "I spend more time with Elena than pretty much anybody else, you take her anywhere and someone's gonna fall in love with her, whether she notices or not. When it's basically a daily occurrence, you get used to it."

Sam cocks his head to the side.

"You didn't exactly seem used to it when Max was hitting on her," Sam says, somewhat carefully.

Dean gives him a look.

"He's in a friggin' mental institution," Dean reminds him. "Plus, it's not appropriate to flirt with a Federal Agent," he adds as an afterthought. "It's just a douchebag move."

Sam laughs a little, not completely buying it, but unable to argue.

"Whatever man, you hate it when anyone flirts with her."

Dean glares at him, affronted.

"It's not like that, it's my job to look out for her," Dean argues, adding, "Dad said so, he wrote it in the book, literally."

Sam laughs.

"Dean, I don't think Dad was thinking about random guys hitting on her in bars when he wrote that down," he points out. "It's probably more along the lines of this kind of thing than that."

Dean snorts.

"He didn't specify, so as far as I'm concerned, anything and everything is covered in my job description."

Dean has that stubborn look on his face, so Sam considers letting it go, but their arguing seems to have distracted Dean from his fear, so Sam keeps going.

It's not like he's been biting his tongue for weeks, holding back these very questions.

"So what happens if she flirts back?" Sam asks, purely for argument's sake. "She clearly doesn't need protecting if she's interested."

Dean grins, taking Sam by surprise.

"Oh Sammy, of course she flirts back sometimes. Especially when it's a bartender."

Dean shakes his head at him fondly when he sees the baffled look on his face.

"Free drinks, Sammy, free drinks," Dean says. "Most of the time she can convince them to get me a drink too, it's friggin' impressive."

Sam laughs out loud at that.

"Seriously?" he asks, amused.

Dean nods. "I bet she could get you one too."

Sam shakes his head, grinning at the extent of Elena's powers of persuasion. "I'd like to see that."

"Next time," Dean promises, grinning too.

Sam chuckles, no longer intent on continuing their earlier conversation about Dean's blatant dislike of people hitting on Elena.

Dean's grin fades, a shadow crossing his face.

"What? You all right, man?" Sam asks, afraid that Dean's fear of flying is kicking back in.

Dean shakes his head.

"Nothing, I guess I never really considered the whole 'keep her safe' thing fully before," he explains.

Sam can feel his own smile fading.

Dean's next words completely demolish the good mood they'd finally built.

"She could have a demon after her and we wouldn't even know."

Dean clenches his jaw so tight that Sam's head hurts.

He can't even bring himself to deny it, they don't know what's after Elena.

"I guess, we just have to hope that it's not that bad, but prepare for it like it is," Sam says.

Dean nods, still looking troubled.

More than anything, Sam wants to know Elena's secrets for Dean's sake, it would be easier, if they weren't flying blind.

"Well, Amanda is lovely, and definitely not possessed by a demon," Elena says, announcing her return with no preamble.

She crawls over Dean, using his shoulders as handholds to maneuver herself over him and back into her seat.

"Seriously?" Dean asks, his disbelief apparent.

"Yup, not even a flinch," she confirms.

"Well she's gotta be the most well-adjusted person on the planet," Dean mutters.

Sam persists.

"You said _Deus_?" Sam asks, being specific.

Elena rolls her eyes at him a little.

"Sam, I recited the introduction to the friggin' Final Prayer in Latin, _Oremus: Deus, cujus Unigénitus, per vitam, mortem et resurrectiónem_ …"

Dean interrupts their little intellectual showdown

"All right, yeah that would've been more than enough." Dean gives Sam a look.

"Yeah no, that's perfect," Sam agrees, feeling a little guilty for being so pushy about it when in truth, her Latin was much better than his, he could barely remember the Lord's Prayer off the top of his head, let alone the Final Prayer.

Dean pauses, squints, turns to look at Elena.

"How the hell did you manage to casually recite the Final Prayer to her?" he asks, incredulous.

Elena rolls her eyes.

"I pretended I was waiting for the bathroom, started chatting, mentioned that my boyfriend's a nervous flyer who sometimes recites Catholic prayers to himself in Latin in order to distract himself. Then she said she's never heard of that method, so I demonstrated." Reaching the end of her explanation, she shrugs.

"She said she might try it sometime, in English, of course."

"So I guess I'm Catholic now," Dean mutters under his breath.

Elena gives him a look, clearly aware that he's teasing her.

Ignoring that Elena had pretended Dean was her boyfriend without thought, Sam focuses on the fact that the demon is still at large.

"So no demon in her."

Elena shakes her head.

"Honestly, I can't imagine there will be either, Dean's right, she's extremely well-adjusted."

Sam nods, deep in thought.

"So if the demon's on the plane, it could be anyone, anywhere."

At the end of his ominous statement, the turbulence kicks in.

Dean grabs for Elena's hand without hesitation, and she wraps her hand in his, using her free hand to rub his shoulder comfortingly.

"Oh come on, that can't be normal!"

"Hey, hey, it's just a little turbulence," Sam says as firmly as he can.

"Sam, this plane is going to crash okay," Dean whispers back fiercely. "So stop treating me like I'm friggin' four."

"You need to calm down," Elena cuts in smoothing her hand up his shoulder to press her fingers to his racing pulse. She strokes his neck with the very tips of her fingers.

"I can't," Dean insists, not nearly as irked with her as he is with Sam.

"Yes you can," Sam says.

"Dude, stow the touchy-feely self-help yoga crap, it's not helping." Dean's ignoring the fact that he couldn't be more intertwined with Elena unless she crawls back into his lap, it's all quite literally touchy-feely.

"Listen, if you're panicked, you're wide open to demonic possession," Sam says, cutting straight to the point. "So you need to calm yourself down right now."

Almost like Elena had read Sam's previous thought, Elena curls herself back around Dean, whispering something in his ear that makes him chuckle.

Her fingers are back in his hair, stroking soothingly, and much to Sam's surprise, he starts taking deep, calming breaths.

Sam stays quiet, letting Elena work her magic, watching his brother interact with the person he's undoubtedly closest to in the world.

Dean makes a lot of jokes about the way people react to Elena, and even Sam admits it's fascinating to watch her interact with people. Seeing them now, however, Sam can't imagine that anyone reacts to Elena the way Dean does.

He waits a few minutes, until Dean seems to be calming down, before he mentions the exorcism he found in Dad's book.

"The _Rituale Romanum_."

Sam pauses, looks at them.

"What do we have to do?" Dean asks.

"It's two parts," Sam starts. "The first part expels the demon from the victim's body. It makes it manifest, which actually makes it more powerful."

He looks down at the Latin words in his father's familiar handwriting.

"More powerful? How?" Dean asks, more than a little freaked. Elena draws her fingers over his pulse reassuringly.

"Well, it doesn't need to possess someone anymore," Sam explains, turning to look at them again. "It can wreak havoc on its own."

"Oh," Dean says. "And why is that a good thing?"

"Well, because the second part sends the bastard back to Hell, once and for all."

"Well that's nice," Dean mutters under his breath.

"I think Elena should do it," Sam says.

Elena looks at him. Involuntarily, Dean tightens his grip on her.

"Like hell she is." Dean almost snarls as he speaks.

Elena stays calm.

"Why me?" she asks, curious more than anything else, she seems sure that Sam has a good explanation for why he'd pick her of the three of them.

This gives Sam the courage to continue on despite Dean's glare.

"Your Latin is the best, I can tell even from the bit of Final Prayer you recited. We've got a limited amount of time, and an extremely precarious conditions that we're working under, we need this to be perfect. If it happens that Dean or I have to say it instead, so be it, but ideally, it's you." Sam takes a breath.

"Your Latin is good," Dean admits grudgingly, clearly reluctant to go along with the idea, but also aware that Sam's point is a good one.

Elena shrugs a little.

"I've always been good with languages," she says. She grins, wryly, adds, "Even the dead ones."

* * *

With Dean on board with Elena performing the exorcism, they begin their search for the demon. Dean's using his homemade EMF reader disguised as what it used to be, a Walkman, so that he can scan the other passengers incognito, walking up and down the aisle slowly with the earbuds in.

When Dean reaches the front of the plane, Sam comes up behind him, grabbing his shoulder.

"Don't do that," Dean scolds, startled.

"Anything?" Sam asks, ignoring him.

"No, nothing," Dean says, "how much time we got?"

Elena comes up behind Sam, ducking around him to stand on Dean's other side.

"Fifteen minutes," Sam says, glancing over at her.

Without a word, Elena leans against Dean, who slips an arm around her waist, clearly enjoying her more frequent affection, despite the circumstances.

Sam knows she's only doing it to keep Dean calm, but he can't help but notice how easily it comes to her, leaning into him, touching his arm, his hair, his face, like she's been holding it back this entire time.

"Maybe we missed somebody?" Elena suggests in undertone.

Sam nods in agreement.

"Maybe the thing's just not on the plane," Dean says, clearly hoping for that option.

"You believe that?" Sam asks, blatantly doubtful.

"Well I will if you will," Dean counters, glancing over at Elena.

She gives him a skeptical look.

Just then Dean's EMF reader starts to make distressed noises in his ears.

He turns to look at the man exiting the bathroom, the copilot.

"What is it?" Elena asks.

Dean's attention is fixed on the copilot, already opening the door to the cockpit.

" _Oremus: Deus, cujus Unigénitus, per vitam, mortem et resurrectiónem_ …" he says, aware that he only needs to say the second word, but unable to resist playing up his fictional counterpart's compulsion that Elena had improvised for Amanda.

The copilot's shoulders roll back into a flinch, and when he turns to look at Dean, his eyes are demon black.

* * *

They quickly realize that they're going to need insider help if they're going to get to the copilot, so they turn to one crew member any of them have any kind of connection to, Amanda.

With no other options, Elena leads them to the back of the plane where Amanda is. The three of them then do their best to explain the situation, emphasizing that the plane is in danger. At first, she doesn't want to listen, so Dean goes for what he knows will make her listen.

"The pilot, from flight 2485, Chuck Lambert, he's dead," Dean tells her.

"What? Chuck is dead?"

Amanda looks between the three of them for a denial. All of them wear grim expressions.

"He died in a plane crash," Elena says.

"That's two plane crashes in two months," Dean continues. "That doesn't strike you as strange?"

Finally, Amanda admits that she also saw the man with the black eyes on flight 2485.

"What is it that you're asking me to do?"

Dean jumps right in, no hesitation.

"Okay, the copilot, we need you to bring him back here."

Amanda is still resistant, despite everything.

"Why, what does he have to do with anything?"

"We don't really have time to explain," Elena says, looking over at Dean, so he continues for her, like usual.

"We just need to talk to him."

* * *

Once they see that the copilot is following Amanda back to them, Sam removes the holy water from his coat while Dean takes their dad's journal from his, grimly handing it over to Elena.

She opens it to the correct page, taking a breath as she looks down at the Latin words on page.

Dean squeezes her shoulder offering silent encouragement before they move to get into place before the demon enters the curtained off area.

"Now, what's the problem?" the demon asks as he steps through the curtain.

Without warning, Dean punches him in the face, knocking him to the ground. Moving swiftly, he grabs him by the shirt, picking him up and slamming him back down, knocking the air out of his lungs before he can yell for help. He slaps a piece of duct tape over his mouth.

"What are you doing? You said you were just gonna talk to him?" Amanda shrieks.

"We are gonna talk to him." With that, Sam opens the holy water and spills it all over his struggling form, causing steam to rise up from his burning flesh.

Dean stays on top of him, keeping him down. Sam moves to add his weight.

"Oh my god, what's wrong with him?" Amanda asks, out of her depth.

"Look, we need you calm. We need you outside the curtain," Sam instructs her. "Don't let anybody in, okay? Can you do that?"

"Amanda," Elena says her name, her voice calm and firm. "Make sure no one comes in."

Amanda finally turns and moves towards the curtain.

"Okay," she says. "Okay."

Dean punches the demon in the face.

"All right, Elena, showtime," he says. "Make it quick, I don't know how long we can hold him."

Elena, as far away from the demon as she can get in their limited space, begins to recite the exorcism.

 _"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio…"_

Elena's voice is steady, she doesn't stutter or trip over the archaic words, they flow from her tongue like she was born to speak them.

Sam knows he made the right choice when he insisted that she be the one to perform the exorcism, his tongue feels heavy just hearing her speak the words.

Elena nears the end of the exorcism, so Dean rips the duct tape off.

The demon has the last word before the copilot's mouth opens and he is forcibly removed from the body in a thick, black smoke.

"I know what happened to your girlfriend. She must have died screaming. Even now, she's burning!"

The black smoke disappears into a vent so quickly that Sam misses it, still focused on the last words it had spoken with the copilot's mouth.

"Where'd it go?" he asks.

"It's in the plane," Dean answers. "Hurry up, Elena, we've got to finish it."

She nods sharply, clearing her throat to start the next part of the exorcism when the plane drops dramatically.

They're all forced down into sitting positions.

Dean's eyes widen in panic.

Elena reaches out, grabbing his hand, and then she continues.

 _"Terribilis Deus de sanctuario suo. Deus Israhel ipse truderit virtutem…"_ Elena continues on, reciting the Latin through the mayhem around her as the plane drops and the other passengers scream and panic, alarms blaring.

 _"Benedictus deus. Gloria patri."_ She finishes at last.

After a few moments, the plane stabilizes.

* * *

"Nobody knows what you guys did, but I do," Chuck says.

The four of them are standing outside Chuck's workplace, the three hunters more than ready to hit the road again.

"A lot of people could've been killed. Your dad's gonna be real proud."

He shakes their hands, giving Elena an extra hand squeeze and a fond grin.

"We'll see you around, Jerry," Sam says.

Jerry starts to walk back to work.

"Hey Jerry," Dean calls, stopping him. "You know, I meant to ask you, how did you get my cellphone number, anyway? I've only had it for like six months."  
"Your dad gave it to me," Jerry replies, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

All three of them look at him almost perfectly in sync.

"What?" Sam says.

"When did you talk to him?" Dean asks, not wanting to get ahead of himself, their dad has only been M.I.A. for a little over a month at this point.

"Well I didn't exactly talk to him, but I called his number," Jerry explains. "His voice message said to give you a call."

With one more thanks, Jerry leaves them.

They make it a few miles away before Dean pulls over to the side of the road, pulling out his phone.

"This doesn't make any sense, man, I've called Dad's number like fifty times, it's been out of service," Sam says.

Elena nods in agreement. "Yeah, me too," she admits.

Dean finishes dialing, presses send. It rings a few times before the message picks up.

He puts it on speakerphone

"This is John Winchester, I can't be reached, if this is an emergency, call my son, Dean..." then he rattles off Dean's number and finishes by saying that he can help.

* * *

It's another sleepless night for Sam, more of a concentrated effort than ever, now that he has the demon's words to obsess over.

Elena comes out of the bathroom, already dressed for her run. She stops at the sight of Sam, awake and watching another infomercial.

She sighs, moves over to his bags, rustling through them for something.

He sits up, curious.

She comes to the end of his bed, tosses something at him.

He catches it reflexively. His running shoes.

He'd been so out of it when he packed, he doesn't even remember deciding to bring them.

She gives him an expectant look, and he gets the message.

He goes back to his bag, rustles up something decent to wear for a run, and then heads into change.

They say nothing as they head out the door. Elena locks the door behind them and tucking the room key into her sock – the other sock, not the one with her butterfly knife in it.

"So, you took pretty good care of Dean on the plane," Sam says, finally breaking the silence.

Elena raises an eyebrow at him.

"He's my partner," she says, her voice just short of scolding.

"Sure he is," Sam replies.

Elena gives him a look.

"Just for that, I'm not gonna easy on you like I planned."

Sam laughs.

She keeps her promise though, she sets a punishing pace, and Sam is affronted to discover that he can barely keep up.

When they get back to the room, Elena gets the first shower, mostly because Sam is too exhausted to fight her for it.

He's asleep before his head hits the pillow, still wearing his running shoes.

 **AN: chapter title is from Aeroplane by Red Hot Chili Peppers. Questions? Comments? Please leave a review!**

 **xoxo**

 **-Pixie**


	6. I Turned All The Mirrors Around

**AN: I apologize this is a little late, I've been sick and sleeping weird hours all weekend. I tried editing but to be honest the room won't stop spinning long enough for me to be sure that everything's right, so I also apologizes for any typos. I'll try to edit again when I'm no longer sick. I feel like I have more to say but I can't remember and I honestly just wanna get this up so, I'm just gonna say ENJOY!**

 **Addendum**

 _(n.)_

 _A thing to be added; an addition._

 **Chapter Six**

 **Bloody Mary**

 **aka**

 **I Turned All The Mirrors Around**

"Sam, wake up," Elena says.

Like magic, her words pull him from his dream and he wakes to her hand on his shoulder.

He turns to look at her in the backseat. The driver seat is empty, Dean nowhere to be found.

"I take it I was having nightmare?" he asks, still bleary.

She nods grimly.

"Another one," she says.

"Well, at least I got some sleep." Sam attempts to look on the bright side. "I guess that whole running thing works, although you're kinda kicking my ass."

Elena laughs a little, but he can see the worry in her eyes.

"Don't uh, tell Dean," he requests.

Elena cocks her head to the side, empathy in her gaze.

"He's actually pretty good to talk to about it," she tells him. "I won't make you tell him or anything, but, he's always good when I have nightmares."

Sam gives her a look, wondering exactly what his brother does when Elena wakes up in their bed from a nightmare, but instead of insinuating all the things he wants to insinuate, he changes the subject.

"Are we here?"

She nods. "Toledo, Ohio."

"Where's Dean?" he asks.

"He went ahead, I lost rock-paper-scissors to wake you up," she explains.

"Huh, nice."

"C'mon, let's go, Dean's trying to sweet talk his way into the morgue to see what happened to our Mr. Shoemaker," Elena says, opening her door.

Sam follows her out of the car and up the front steps. He tries his best to shake off his nightmare. It's not like it was any different from the last dozen or so he's had. It's always the same. He feels like he's losing his mind. He needs to focus on the case.

"Look man, this paper's like half our grade so if you don't mind helping us out."

They can hear Dean from the hallway.

"Look man, no," they hear someone say.

They exchange a look, clearly Dean's sweet talking isn't going as well as he'd planned.

Elena rolled her eyes, reaching up to let loose her hair from its high ponytail. She shakes it out, throws a little more swivel in her hips than usual and then strolls through the doors like it's fashion week.

Sam trails behind her, ducking his head to hide his grin. He's not used to her, not yet, but he's not shell-shocked now when she turns it on and brings the world to its knees. It's kind of fun, really, watching her.

"Hey, sorry we're late, did you already see it?" Elena asks, fluttering her eyelashes at Dean, who quickly masks his smirk behind a disappointed look.

"Uh no, this gentleman doesn't seem too interested in helping us with our paper," Dean says, gesturing to the unsuspecting assistant.

Elena pouts, tosses her hair as she turns to look at the assistant.

The assistant, rendered thunderstruck the moment Elena waltzed through the doors, stares dumbly back at her.

"What seems to be the problem? When I called the coroner he was thrilled to help out some curious, young med students," Elena says, cocking her head to the side, she finishes him off with a bite to the corner of perfect mouth.

"Um," he says.

She blinks, waiting.

"Yeah, sure," he says, still not completely verbal.

Elena grants him a radiant grin.

"You are so totally my hero," she pauses, touches Sam and Dean on the smalls of their backs. "You're a hero to all of us."

Sam coughs to cover his laugh, but Dean nods along solemnly.

The coroner's assistant smiles stupidly at her and then leads them over to the body. His back momentarily turned to them, Dean wraps an arm around Elena's waist and squeezes.

Elena winks in response as he moves away from her towards the body. Elena strategically places herself next to the coroner's assistant, as a reward for his helpful behavior.

Elena and Sam exchange a quick glance, and she understands that it will work best if she takes the lead.

"The uh, newspaper said his daughter found him, she said his eyes were bleeding," Elena says, widening her eyes just a bit, like she's shocked, but biting the corner of her mouth again, to imply a hidden excitement.

It's fascinating to watch her work, every movement and word is calculated, but everyone simply takes it at face value because she's beautiful and magnetic and they want it to be real.

"More than that," the assistant is saying as he pulls back the sheet covering the body, "they practically liquified."

Elena leans into him, looking rapt.

"Do you think someone did it to him?" she asks.

He leans into Elena, lowering his voice.

"Nope, besides the daughter he was all alone."

Sam watches, waiting for some indication that Elena's uncomfortable, a flinch, a twitch, anything that says she doesn't want him in her personal space. Elena's act is without flaw. There's nothing on the surface except what this man wants to see.

"What's the official cause of death?"

Elena turns her head, giving him her magnificent profile while she flicks her hair over her shoulder, the light hitting it just right to bring out the blazing red tones in it.

"Uh, the doc's not sure," he replies, distracted.

Elena cocks her head to the side.

He clears his throat looks down at the body, looking for any reprieve in the face of this beautiful girl.

"He's thinking, uh, massive stroke, maybe an aneurysm," he's speaking to the corpse now. "Something burst up in there, that's for sure."

Elena ducks her head down, forcing him to look back up at her.

"What do you mean?"

Sam finally manages to tear his eyes away from Elena's charade to look at his brother. He always tries to remember to look at Dean when other men are looking at Elena. Usually, he gives it away so easily. He glares, moves into her personal space, typical guy stuff.

When she's like this, putting on a show to get them what they need, Dean is a willing participant. It's bizarre, how quickly he can turn it on and off given the context.

"Intense cerebral bleeding. This guy had more blood in his skull than anyone I've ever seen."

Elena nods, looking completely invested in the assistant's obvious enthusiasm for the gore.

"And the eyes? What would cause something like that?"

He shrugs, not particularly mystified.

"Capillaries can burst," he suggests. "See a lot of bloodshot eyes with stroke victims."

Elena raises a skeptical eyebrow.

"What about exploding eyeballs?" she asks, a hint of teasing in her tone, despite the gross subject matter.

She never lets on that she might be uncomfortable with an eyeless corpse sprawled out under her nose and a creepy coroner's assistant looming over her.

"That's a first for me," he admits. "But, hey, I'm not the doctor."

"No you aren't," Elena agrees, somehow making that sound flirty.

"Hey you think we could look at that police report?" Dean asks, speaking for the first time since explaining his failed attempt to see the body to Elena.

"I'm not really supposed to show you that."

The coroner's assistant is resistant, simply because Elena isn't talking, but Elena leans in, so close that he must know the flowery bite of her perfume by now.

"That's a great idea, that would be such a good angle for our paper." She smiles at him, letting her mouth slide up more on one side than the other, charmingly lopsided and coy.

She has him.

When he's walking them to the door, he casually mentions that it's almost his lunch break.

Elena raises an eyebrow, pretending not to understand. Before her body even starts to lean, Dean is there, supporting her weight and curling an arm around her shoulders.

"Thanks for your help," he tells him coolly, combing his fingers through her hair. He reaches up with his free hand to smooth a hand along her jaw. "You really saved our asses, it's gonna be a hell of a paper, you really are our hero."

Sam looks down at his feet, trying to hide his smirk. Elena gives the deflated assistant her fallen angel smile.

"Totally, thanks so much," she says, leaning into Dean just a fraction more, like it's a thoughtless action.

"Have a good lunch break." There's enough innocence in Elena's tone for a successful virgin sacrifice.

They leave the room easily entwined, their gait perfectly adjusted, steps in perfect sync. Sam trails behind them, taking one last look at the coroner's assistant. He looks like he might be realizing he just got played, but he certainly doesn't look angry.

That's the power of Elena Gilbert.

* * *

"Might not be one of ours, might just be some freak medical thing," Sam says.

They're walking down the staircase, Dean isn't really paying attention to Sam, he's preoccupied with swinging Elena's arm, propelling her forward and then pulling her back. She laughs at him and Dean grins back at her.

"How many times in Dad's long and varied career has it actually been a freak medical thing, and not an awful sign of a supernatural death?"

He looks back at Sam, finally remembering to answer him, finally remembering he's there.

"Uh, almost never?"

"Exactly," Dean says.

He picks Elena up with one arm, tucking her under his arm like luggage until she's cackling. He carries her down the next flight of stairs.

Sam can't hide his grin at their antics. No matter what they mean, it's fun to watch.

"All right, let's go talk to the daughter," Sam says, sighing a little.

They reach the front door so Dean puts Elena down. She stumbles a little, her equilibrium off.

Dean grins at, grabbing for her hand again.

"You, are brilliant, Gilbert," he says. "What the hell did I ever do without you?"

Sam answers. "Well, if Elena hadn't fried his brain, I would've just bribed him with your poker winnings."

Dean gives him a mock glare.

"This is why you're my favorite," he tells Elena seriously.

She laughs again.

"Yeah, I know, I'm amazing,"

"You kind of are," Sam says, just as serious as Dean had been.

* * *

It's always just a little bit harder, to get their story straight when Elena's involved. She makes so much of it easier, it's undeniable true, but then people take a look at her and there has to be some kind of explanation for all of that. Dean says that she's memorable. Sam personally thinks that's the understatement of the century. Elena sears into people's brains like lightning.

Walking through the Shoemakers' house, Sam can feel the eyes following them, and it's not about their casual clothes in a house full of mourners. It's Elena. Even with her hair tamed back into her customary ponytail, everything about her is magnetic.

In the backyard, there's a small group of teenage girls. Someone points out the short-haired brunette as Mr. Shoemaker's daughter

"You must be Donna, right?" Dean asks.

"Yeah," she says, somewhat shortly.

"We're so sorry for your loss," Elena says.

Sam remembers then, that Elena was Donna's age when she lost her parents.

She's tucked herself between both brothers. Something she does frequently now, relying on their bulk to hide her from prying eyes.

"Thank you," Donna says, still looking at them like she's not entirely sure what they're doing there. She sounds sincere, at least.

"I'm Sam," he starts, taking over for Elena without thought, for once. "This is Dean, We worked with your dad."

"You did?" Donna asks, exchanging skeptical looks with one of her friends.

"Yeah," Dean jumps in, "And this is Elena, my girlfriend."

Elena smiles at him, exactly like a girlfriend would.

He smiles back at her.

"This whole thing," he continues, turning back to Donna, shaking his head, "I mean, a stroke?"

"I don't think she really wants to talk about this right now," her friend says, cutting off their line of questioning.

"It's okay, I'm okay," Donna insists.

Elena is close enough that Sam feel what no one can see, she flinches at Donna's word.

Dean is close enough to feel it too, and with the slightest movement, he reaches over and takes her hand.

"Where there ever any symptoms? Dizziness? Migraines?" Dean asks, despite a slight hesitance in his tone.

Donna thinks for a moment, but then shakes her head. "No."

The small brunette next to her turns around finally, agonized.

"That's because it wasn't a stroke," she says insistently, clearly distressed.

"Lily, don't say that," Donna responds.

"What?" Sam asks.

"I'm sorry, she's just upset," Donna says, explaining away her sister's fantastical idea before she even gets a chance to voice it.

"No, it happened because of me."

Sam can feel Elena tense again. Out of the corner of his eye he sees her squeeze Dean's hand, hard.

"Sweetie, it didn't," Donna says, trying to soothe her sister.

Elena lets go of Dean's hand, slides between the brother's to kneel down next to her.

"Lily, why would you say something like that?" she asks, her voice lullaby soft.

"Right before he died, I said it."

"You said what?"

"'Bloody Mary,' three times in the bathroom mirror," Lily explains tearfully.

Donna and her friend both hold seem to physically back their exasperation.

"She took his eyes, that's what she does."

Donna interrupts.

"That's not why Dad died. This isn't your fault." She tries to convince Lily.

"I think your sister's right, Lily," Dean says. "There's no way it could've been Bloody Mary. I mean, your dad didn't say it, did he?"

It's quintessential Dean, getting information while still comforting a small scared child. It might not be exactly what someone expects an adult to say to kid, but it certainly fit her line of thinking better than her sister's reassurances.

"No, I don't think so."

Elena smiles at her, and Lily smiles back.

Dean walks over to them, holding out a hand to Elena to help her up.

* * *

"The Bloody Mary Legend, Dad ever find any evidence that it was a real thing?" Sam asks.

They're staring into the bathroom where Mr. Shoemaker died.

Dean shakes his head. "Not that I know of." He turns on the light and walks into the room.

"I mean, everywhere else, all over the country kids will play Bloody Mary, and as far as we know nobody dies from it." Sam approaches Dean.

"Maybe everywhere else it's just a story."

Sam and Dean both turn back to look at Elena, still in the doorway.

"But here it's actually happening," Dean continues for her.

"The place where the legend began," Sam says, adding to their train of thought.

Dean idly opens the mirrored cabinet.

"But according to the legend, the person who says," Sam trails off, realizing the mirror is directly in his face. He closes it and continues. "The person who says you-know-what gets it. But here—"  
"Shoemaker gets it instead, yeah," Dean finishes.

"Right."

Dean shakes his head.

"Never heard of anything like that before," he admits. "Still, the guy did die right in front of the mirror. And the daughter's right, I mean, the way the legend goes," he glances at the mirror, steals Sam's turn a phrase, "you-know-who scratches your eyes out."

Sam concedes. "It's worth checking into."

"Excuse me, do you know where the bathroom is?" Elena says suddenly from the doorway.

She glances in, giving them a significant look, canting her head away from whoever she's seen in the hallway. She strides towards them.

"I'm sorry, I just, don't really want to use that one."

"Uh, it's okay, I guess I get that," a girl's voice replies, somewhat shyly. "The guest bathroom is downstairs."

Elena laughs weakly. "Of course it is, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have wandered up here, it's just, I needed to get away. It was only once I got here that I realized where this must be."

It sounds like Donna's friend who'd told them off for asking her questions.

"You don't like crowds?"

"Um, not exactly," Elena pauses. "Funerals, I get, I mean, I guess I've been to too many, or I guess, I've hosted too many. They always have this, humming silence, like everyone is trying not to disturb the dead, or the grieving. I dream about it sometimes."

"Oh."

There's a painful pause.

"I'm sorry."

"It is what it is," Elena says.

Their voices are getting further away, so Dean and Sam sneak out into the hallway. Elena and Donna's friend are around the corner, and there's no other way back down except to follow them. They creep as silently as they can, just out of sight.

"So did your boyfriend really work with Donna's dad?"

There's a pause, like an evaluation.

"Why do you think he didn't?"

The girl stutters for a second, not expecting Elena's question, but eventually remembers the source of her suspicion.

"He was a day trader, he worked alone."

Elena doesn't answer right away. They've both stop walking.

If Sam had to guess, he's betting they're at the top of the stairs now.

"Mr. Shoemaker didn't die of a stroke, he didn't have any of the normal symptoms," she says, surprising everyone.

Sam looks back at Dean, widening is eyes in alarm. Dean shrugs. It's in Elena's hands now, if she thinks it's best to give Donna's friend a clue, then it is whether they like it or not.

"What happened to him then?" the girl is asking.

"We don't know yet," Elena says honestly.

They start to descend the stairs and Sam stops being able to hear what they're saying.

They wait a few minutes before go down and join the rest of the guests, mingling until Elena approaches them again.

"Let's get out of here," she says softly.

She's right, Sam can hear the humming silence she was talking about earlier. It surrounds them, and he wonders what it feels like to her. He doesn't like it, but it's still unfamiliar to him. Whatever he's lost, it hasn't come at this cost, never-ending funerals.

Dean takes Elena's hand, rubbing her palm with his thumb.

As they leave, Sam sees Donna's friend watching them go, a searching expression on her face.

* * *

In the car Elena fills them in on what they missed of her conversation with Donna's friend, Charlie.

"I just told her she could call us if she or any of her friends noticed anything out of the ordinary." She shrugs. "Then I gave her your number."

Sam looks up, raises an eyebrow.

"Why not yours?" he asks, not upset that she'd used his, rather curious as to why she didn't use her own.

Elena and Dean exchange glances.

"Dad gets antsy about Elena leaving any trails," Dean says, answering for her.

Sam frowns, taking it in.

"Okay," he says. In the end, he can't exactly say it's not logical, Elena's being kept safe from something, it's probably good to make sure she isn't easy to track.

After a pause, Sam clears his throat.

"So should I be offended that you always pretend Dean is your boyfriend and not me?" he asks as casually as he can.

They both turn to look at him exactly at the same time, giving him the same exact look.

It's a completely calculated question. He has no problem with Dean always being Elena's pretend boyfriend over him. His problem is the pretend part, and he's going to beat this topic into the ground until something changes or he gets a definitive answer that satisfies him and explains away all the weird tension between them.

Sam shrugs.

"What, I'm starting to feel a little undesirable here, Elena," he says, trying to keep a straight face. "If Dean is better boyfriend material, what exactly does that say about me?"

She gives him an unimpressed look.

"When's my birthday?" she asks, shocking him.

"Um," he says.

"June 22nd," Dean replies, eyes on the road.

Elena points at Dean to indicate his correct answer.

"Uh," Sam says.

"Where does my brother go to college?" she asks.

"Um…"

"Pratt Institute in Brooklyn. He's an amazing artist," Dean replies.

"Yes, yes he is," Elena says in agreement.

"That's cool," Sam says, completely unaware of the fact that her brother was even that far north. For some reason he'd been imagining him in North Carolina.

"What was my mom's name?" Elena asks, still making her point.

Sam coughs.

"Miranda," Dean says, pauses, frowns, then adds, "I mean, I guess you mean Isobel, but I'm pretty sure you meant Miranda."

Elena nods.

"Yes Dean, I did mean Miranda, but the fact you know there was even a possibility of the answer being Isobel proves my point."

She looks at Sam.

"You don't know anything about me, so maybe you are boyfriend material, but us fake dating would not be believable at all, not even to strangers."

Dean throws in his expertise.

"It kinda helps to know even basic shit about the person your pretending to date, even for strangers."

Sam, however, is still stuck on the Miranda/Isobel situation.

"Miranda? Isobel?" he asks.

Elena sighs.

"Uh, yeah, I was adopted, my adoptive mom was Miranda, my biological mother was Isobel," she explains, stuttering a little over using the word mother to describe Isobel, even in clinical terms.

"My adoptive dad, Grayson, was actually my biological father's older brother, so he was my paternal uncle," she adds as an afterthought.

Suddenly Sam realizes his glaring sin.

"Right, Dean told me your parents died in a car accident when you were 16 but you had to have been at least 17 when you met Dad and Dean at your father's funeral," Sam says, disbelieving that he somehow hadn't realized the seemingly incorrect information.

Elena nods.

His stomach drops as the information sinks in.

Elena's lost more than one set of parents.

He realizes something about Elena's wording when talking about her mothers.

"Um, when did Isobel die?" Sam asks. "You referred to her in the past tense too."

Elena sighs.

"a couple of days before John," she replies.

"God," Sam says. "I am so sorry."

In such a short period of time, Elena had experienced a more profound loss than Sam can even imagine. It isn't like he's a stranger to grief, but she's in a league he hasn't yet approached. No wonder she doesn't like funerals.

Elena shrugs.

"Yeah."

Sam clears his throat.

"I'm also sorry that I've been so wrapped in myself that I don't actually know anything about you beyond your hunting abilities and your terrible sleeping habits."

Elena looks at him like he's insane for a second.

"Sam, we've known each other for a few weeks, I think it's okay if you don't have my whole tragic backstory down cold." She smiles at him. "You've been through a lot, I don't take it personally."

Sam smiles back at her hesitantly, still feeling like he's done some horrible wrong to her.

"Uh, right."

They lapse into silence.

Dean, having been quiet through all of Elena's exposition, finally breaks the ice.

"Personally, Sammy, I think you're far too nice to even pretend to be Elena's boyfriend, she's too much for you to handle."

* * *

"All right, say Bloody Mary really is haunting this town, there's gotta be some sort of proof. A local woman who died nasty," Dean says as they walk into the library.

"Yeah, but a legend this widespread, it's hard." Sam shakes his head.

"He's right, there's like fifty versions of who she actually is. One story says she's a witch, another says she's a mutilated bride, there's a lot more," Elena says, continuing Sam's thought process.

Sam nods. "Exactly, where do we even begin?"

Dean sighs.

"I dunno Sam, what do you think?"

"Every version has a few things in common," Elena reminds them, and Sam nods.

"It's always a woman named Mary, and she always dies right in front of a mirror," Sam says. "So we've got to search local newspapers, public records, as far back as they go, see if we can a Mary who fits the bill."

Dean frowns.

"Well that sounds annoying."

"Nah, it won't be so bad," Sam insists.

Elena laughs, points over at the computers covered in out of order signs.

"I take that back," Sam says. "This will be very annoying."

Elena shrugs.

"We don't have any other choice," she reminds them. "Why don't you guys start and I'll go get us all coffee and snacks," she suggests.

Sam raises an eyebrow at her.

"How do we know you're not just trying to get out of dong the hard work."

Elena crosses her arms and looks up at him.

"Sam, if you think you can get coffee and snacks in here without a librarian beating you to death with an cyclopedia, be my guest."

Sam gulps.

"Yeah, you should do it."

Dean laughs.

Elena heads for the door.

"Get cookies," Dean calls after her.

* * *

"Why'd you let me fall asleep?" Sam asks. He's just woken up from another nightmare.

"'Cause I'm an awesome brother," Dean replies without skipping a beat, looking up from his book. "So what'd you dream about?"

"Lollipops and candy canes," Sam says softly.

"Yeah, sure." Dean scoffs.

"Where's Elena?" Sam asks.

"Coffee run," Dean replies.

"You lose rock-paper-scissors again?"

Dean always wants to do the coffee run, anything to get out of the mind-numbing turn of pages.

"Nah, we switched things up at about three, this time she kicked my ass at a thumb war."

Sam laughs.

"You find anything?"

"Oh, besides a whole new level of frustration? No." Dean tosses his book on the pile. "I've looked at everything."

Sam sits up.

"A few local women, a Laura and a Katherine, committed suicide in front of a mirror, and a giant mirror fell on a guy named Dave, but no Mary."

Sam collapses back into bed.

"Maybe we just haven't found it yet," he says, trying to be optimistic.

"I've also been searching for strange deaths in the area, you know, eyeballs bleeding, that sorta thing, there's nothing. Whatever's happening here, maybe it just ain't Mary," Dean concludes.

Elena comes in then with coffee and bags of bagels and pastries.

"Morning Sam, hi Dean."

"I don't know if I've ever been happier to see you," Dean says, making grabby hands at the pastry bag.

"Morning Elena," Sam says, watching in bemusement as Dean inhales a cheese Danish.

Just then, Sam's phone rings.

"Hello?"

* * *

After Charlie's distressed call, Dean's in the bathroom before they leave to meet her at the park, so Sam takes the opportunity to speak to Elena privately.

"Did you run this morning?" he asks.

She nods. "Yeah, a little after five, I was getting fidgety."

He clears his throat.

"Uh, do you think, I mean…" he trails off.

"What is it, Sam?"

He sighs. "Could you, maybe wake me up, next time? I'd much rather go for a run with you."

She raises an eyebrow at him.

"Sam, you need to sleep."

He shakes his head. "I'm not saying I don't. It's just, it's better, after a run," he admits, feeling a little uncomfortable. He still has nightmares, but usually he manages to get some restful sleep first.

"Oh," she says. Then she smiles. "Yeah, me too. I'll definitely wake you up next time."

* * *

"…And they found her on the bathroom floor."

Charlie is crying in Elena's arms, Dean sitting on the back of the bench behind them, Sam standing in front of them.

"And her – her eyes…" Charlie looks up at Dean over Elena's shoulder. "They were gone."

Elena rubs Charlie's back comfortingly.

"I'm sorry," Sam says.

"And she said it, I heard her say it." She pulls back out of Elena's arms.

Elena hands her a tissue from her purse.

"But it couldn't be because of that." She looks between all three of them pleadingly. "I'm insane, right?"

The three of them exchange grim looks.

"No, you're not insane," Dean tells her firmly.

"Oh God, that makes me feel so much worse."

She almost collapses back into Elena's arms.

Elena can do nothing but wrap her arms back around her. She shoots Sam a look over Charlie's shoulder, prompting him to speak.

He sighs, but does what Elena's asking him to do.

"Look, we think something's happening here. Something that can't be explained."

He looks at Dean to continue.

"And we're gonna stop it, but we could use your help."

Charlie stops crying, moves with tentative purpose out of Elena's arms.

Elena hands her the entire travel pack of tissues from her purse.

* * *

It doesn't take Charlie very long to convince Jill's mom to let her into her room. She doesn't waste any time crossing the room to open her window and let the three of them in.

"What did you tell Jill's mom?" Sam asks. He puts his bag down on Jill's bed and opens it.

"I just said I needed some time alone with Jill's pictures and things."

Elena smiles approvingly at her.

"Nice."

Charlie smiles back, weakly, but sincerely.

"I hate lying to her," she admits after a breath.

"Trust us, it's for the greater good," Dean says, reassuring her. "Hit the lights, please."

Sam pulls out the video camera, turns it on.

Charlie complies.

"What are you looking for?" she asks.

"We'll let you know as soon as we find it," Dean answers.

"Hey, night vision," Sam says, holding the camera out to Dean. He reaches over and turns it on for him. "Thanks. Perfect."

The camera is pointed at Dean, so he turns to the side looking back.

"Do I look like Paris Hilton?" he asks cheekily.

Elena snorts.

"God your jokes are old, Winchester."

Charlie laughs.

Sam ignores both of them, heading over to go over the mirror in Jill's closet.

"So I don't get it," Sam starts as he works. "So first victim, didn't summon Mary, and the second victim did. How's she choosing them?"

"Beats me," Dean admits.

Elena clears her throat.

"Maybe we don't use the V-word in front of Charlie?" Elena suggests, reminding them that their new friend had just lost her friend in an incredibly traumatic way.

Sam and Dean exchange glances.

"Sorry Charlie," they chorus.

Charlie shifts uncomfortably. "It's okay," she murmurs, but she shoots Elena a grateful look.

"I want to know why Jill said it in the first place?" Dean asks, going back to the original topic. He looks over at Charlie.

"It was just a joke," she says, somewhat defensively.

"Yeah well, somebody's gonna say it again, it's just a matter of time."

"Hey," Sam calls from the bathroom.

They all turn to look at him.

"There's a blacklight in the trunk, right?" he asks.

Dean turns to look at Elena.

She rolls her eyes.

"Screw you," she says. She's already opening the curtains and then the window to climb back through.

"You're a star, Gilbert," Dean calls after her.

She's back in only a few minutes. Meanwhile, Sam takes the bathroom mirror off the wall and lays it down face first on the bed.

Elena crawls back in.

She tosses the blacklight to Sam who rips off the brown paper covering the back of the mirror.

The blacklight reveals a handprint and a name.

"Gary Bryman?"

Sam looks at Charlie.

"You know who that is?" he asks.

She shakes her head. "No."

* * *

"So, Gary Bryman was an eight-year-old boy," Sam starts.

Dean, Elena, and Charlie are waiting for him in the same park they met in earlier. Dean and Charlie are sitting on a bench, Elena's sprawled on the ground in front of them, seemingly uncaring of the fact that she has grass in her hair.

Sam gives her an amused look. He takes the last spot on the bench next to Charlie.

"Two years ago he was killed in a hit and run. The car was described as a black Toyota Camry, but nobody got the plates or saw the driver."

Oh my God," Charlie says.

They all look at her.

Elena sits up, crossing her legs. "What is it, Charlie?" she asks.

"Jill drove that car," she told them.

"We need to get back to your friend Donna's house," Dean says.

* * *

On their way to the Impala, Dean fusses with Elena's hair. He's walking behind her, occasionally purposefully stepping on her heels while he picks bits of grass out of her hair.

"Stop it," she whines. "It's fine, I don't care if I have grass in my hair, Dean."

Dean ignores her and keeps pulling bits out.

"Yeah I mean, it'll probably just swallow it whole and we'll never see it again," Sam says.

Elena crosses her eyes at him.

"You do have a lot of hair," Charlie says.

"Yeah, maybe you'll never see it again, Sam, but I'm gonna wake up in a bed full of it," Dean grumbles.

Charlie's eyes widen.

"Oh you two really are together, I thought that was just part of your act."

Elena laughs, shaking her head and causing Dean to pull her hair.

She smacks his hand away, but he goes right back to it, relentless.

"No, we're not," Elena says simply.

Charlie looks at Sam questioningly.

"Don't ask," he tells her in undertone.

He lives with them, he's the only one who needs to be driven insane by whatever they are, or aren't.

"You're not gonna get in my car and fill it with grass, Elena," Dean is saying.

Elena stops short then, making Dean run into her and almost toppling them both over.

Once they're upright and balanced again she shoves him off and shakes out her hair, whipping Dean in the face in the process.

Sam doesn't doubt that it's on purpose.

She gathers all of it up, twisting it into a bun.

"Happy?" she asks.

"It'll do," Dean replies, blinking and pretending she hadn't gotten him right in the eye with her hair trick.

Sam shakes his head at their antics.

* * *

They make quick work of the mirror in the Shoemaker's bathroom.

"Linda Shoemaker," Sam reads aloud.

The three of them exchange a look.

* * *

"Why are you asking me all this?" Donna asks suspiciously.

"Look, we're sorry, but it's important," Sam says.

Donna gives him a distrustful look, but answers anyway.

"Yeah, Linda's my mom, okay? And she overdosed on sleeping pills. It was an accident, and that's it."

She glares at them.

"I think you should leave," she says.

"It's hard to lose a parent when you're so young," Elena says suddenly. "Especially when it isn't the first time, and strangers are asking you questions that you don't know the answers to. It's even harder when you have a younger sibling to take care of. Believe me, I know firsthand."

Donna stares at her in open-mouth shock. Her lower lip trembles a little.

I'm sorry for your loss, and the inquisition, we'll leave now."

With that the boys follow her out of the house, and Donna is left staring after them.

* * *

"Oh my God, do you really think her dad could've killed her mom?" Charlie asks them, horrified.

She's walking with them to the Impala, so they can talk without Donna overhearing.

"Maybe," Sam says honestly.

She considers leaving too, since Donna is so upset, but she also doesn't want to leave her alone, and it seems like Elena's words effected Donna in some way.

"I think I should stick around," she tells them.

Dean nods.

"All right, well just, whatever you do, don't—"

She cuts him off.

"Believe me, I won't say it," she says with conviction.

"Call us if you need anything," Elena says.

Charlie nods.

* * *

"Wait, wait, wait, you're doing a nationwide search?" Sam asks.

"Yep," Dean says, still hunched over the laptop. "The NCIC, the FBI database, at this point any Mary in the country who died in front of a mirror is good enough for me."

Elena hums in agreement. She's sprawled on their bed, nested in the blankets comfortably.

"But if she's haunting the town, she should've died in the town," Sam says, pointing out the obvious.

"I'm telling you, there's nothing local. So unless you've got a better idea."

"The way Mary's choosing her victims, it seems like there's a pattern."  
"I know, I was thinking the same thing," Dean agrees.

"With Mr. Shoemaker and Jill's hit and run –"

"They both had secrets where somebody died," Dean finishes for him.

"Right. There's a lot of folklore about mirrors, that they reveal all your lies, all your secrets. That they're a true reflection of your soul, which is why it's bad luck to break them."

"Right, right," Dean says. "Yeah, so maybe if you've got a secret, I mean like a really nasty one where someone died, then Mary sees it and punishes you for it," he theorizes.

"Whether you're the one who summoned her or not," Sam finishes grimly.

"Take a look at this," Dean says.

Sam leans in, focused on the case but aware at the back of his mind that Elena hasn't said anything since they started talking about mirrors.

Dean hands Sam the printed crime scene photo, a handprint in blood on the mirror, exactly like the ones they'd found on the backs of Mr. Shoemaker and Jill's mirrors.

"That looks like the same handprint," Sam says.

"Her name was Mary Worthington," Dean tells him. "An unsolved murder in Fort Wayne, Indiana."

Sam's about to jump into action to go, but Dean's preoccupied.

"Where'd you go, 'Lena?" he asks.

Elena's sitting up in bed, lost in thought.

She hums. "I'm not sure," she says, brushing it off.

Dean's mouth twitches and that's how Sam knows she's lying.

"So I guess we're going to Indiana," Elena says with measured calm.

It's an implicit warning not to call her out on her lie.

Sam's surprised when Dean just nods and says, "Yeah, I guess we are."

Then again, Dean knows best when it comes to Elena. If he isn't going to ask, neither will Sam.

* * *

"I was on the job for thirty-five years, detective for most of that. Now everybody packs it in with a few loose ends, but the Mary Worthington murder, that one still gets me," the retired police detective admits.

"What exactly happened?" Dean asks.

"You said you're reporters?" he asks.

"We know Mary was 19, lived by herself," Sam says, cutting in smoothly.

"We know she won a few local beauty pageants," Elena says, fiddling with her camera. She'd been the one to point out that three reporters seemed a bit much. "Dreamt of getting out of Indiana, being an actress."

She's the only one sitting, as usual their new friend had taken an immediate liking to her. She has a cup of coffee and a donut in front of her.

She glances over at Sam, who takes that as his cue to continue.

"And we know the night of March 29th someone broke into her apartment and murdered her. Cut out her eyes with a knife."

He nods. "That's right."

Dean takes over.

"See, sir, when we ask you what happened, we want to know what you think happened."

He nods at the boys to take a seat with Elena, then leaves the room to go get something.

Dean takes this opportunity to bogart Elena's donut, with permission of course.

Without a word, Elena hands her coffee over to Sam.

He takes it gratefully, notices that she's doctored it exactly the way he likes it.

"Technically, I'm not supposed to have a copy of this," the retired detective admits as he reenters the room with a box of evidence.

He sorts through until he finds what he's looking for, the same picture Dean had shown Sam back in their motel room in Toledo.

He turns it to point out the writing on the mirror.

"Now, see that there, 't-r-e'?"

Dean nods. "Yeah?"

"I think Mary was trying to spell out the name of her killer."

"Do you know who it was?" Elena asks.

He shakes his head.

"Not for sure, but there was a local man, a surgeon, Trevor Sampson." He tosses a picture down on the table for them. "And I think he cut her up good."

Sam interjects.

"Now why would he do something like that?"

His answer is immediate.

"Her diary mentioned a man that she was seeing. She called him by his initial, 'T'. Well, her last entry, she was gonna tell T's wife about their affair."

Dean interrupts.

"Yeah but how do you know that it was this guy Sampson who killed her?"

"It's hard to say…" he admits, trailing off for a moment, then coming back sharply, "But the way her eyes were cut out, it was almost professional."

Elena wrinkles her nose a little.

"But you could never prove it?" Dean asks, guessing correctly.

"No. No prints, no witnesses. He was meticulous."

Sam and Dean exchange a glance.

"Is he still alive?" Dean asks, trying to be casual about it.

"Nope." He sits down across from them. "If you ask me, Mary spent her last living moments trying to expose this guy's secret, but she never could."

A pause, then Sam asks, "Where's she buried?"

He shakes his head. "She wasn't, she was cremated."

"What about the mirror?" Elena asks.

Dean nods, following along with her train of thought.

He points at the picture. "It's not in some evidence lockup somewhere, is it?"

He thinks for a moment. "Uh, no. It was returned to Mary's family a long time ago."

He leans back in his chair.

"Do you have the names of her family by any chance?" Sam asks.

* * *

"Oh, really? That's too bad, Mr. Worthington," Sam looks back and shakes his head at Elena, "I would have paid a lot for that mirror." Pause. "Okay, well maybe next time." Pause. "All right, thanks."

Sam hangs up.

"So?" Dean says, prompting him.

"So, that was Mary's brother. The mirror was in the family for years, until he sold it, one week ago to a store called Estate Antiques." Sam looks back at Elena again. "A store in Toledo."

"So wherever the mirror goes, that's where Mary goes?" Dean hypothesizes.

"Her spirit's definitely tied up with it somehow," Sam agrees.

"There's an old superstition that says mirrors can capture spirits," Elena says from the back. She sounds almost absentminded, distant.

Sam turns back.

"My friend's grandmother made us cover all the mirrors in our house after the accident," Elena says, responding to his unanswered question.

"Superstitious old southern lady, 'cause that's not cliché or anything," Dean says jokingly.

Elena doesn't laugh.

"Sure, that's one way to put it," she says mildly. "Or maybe it was because she was a witch."

Silence fills the car.

Dean coughs.

"Okay, yeah, um, yeah, that's a completely relevant point," Sam says, forging on.

In the back of his mind he's digesting the fact that Elena grew up around a lineage of witchcraft.

"Mary dies in front of a mirror and it draws in her spirit," Dean says, continuing on with the discussion.

Sam wonders if Dean knew about Elena's witch friends before.

"Yeah, but how can she move through like a hundred different mirrors?" Sam asks.

"I don't know," Dean admits. "But if f the mirror is the source, I say we find it and we smash it."

"Yeah, I don't know, maybe," Sam says noncommittally.

There's a pause.

"Huh," Elena says.

"What?" Dean asks.

"Nothing, just, I wonder if your bad luck is worse for smashing a cursed mirror?" Elena asks.

Sam starts to answer, then pauses, stumped.

"It should be good luck," Dean says. "Since it's bad and you got rid of it, right?"

Elena shakes her head.

"Yeah, but who's doling out the luck here? Because if the evil cursed mirror is, I don't think it's gonna like being smashed."

Dean frowns.

"Why do you do this to me, Elena?" he asks.

Elena shrugs.

"I have questions, I'm supposed to ask you, that's what you always say," she reminds him.

"Your questions are ridiculous."

Sam frowns.

"I mean, it is an interesting question," he admits.

Dean shoots him a glare.

Sam's cell phone rings before they can continue debating Elena's question.

"Hello?"

Sam sits up.

"Charlie?"

After a moment, he hands the phone back to Elena, his face serious.

"What is it?" Dean asks.

* * *

Charlie clings to Elena on the motel bed, her face buried in Elena's shoulder.

Around them Dean and Sam work methodically, covering the mirrors with sheets, turning them to face the wall.

Charlie rocks back and forth, her boots banging into Elena's shins, bruises blooming.

Elena doesn't flinch.

Charlie's fingernails dig into Elena's skin through her shirt, leaving crescent indents.

Elena doesn't flinch. She simply smooths her hands down her hair.

Dean throws one last sheet over the television.

Sam sits down on Charlie's other side.

"They're done," Elena tells her. "It's okay, you can open your eyes now."

Charlie reluctantly emerges from her hiding place at the curve of Elena's neck.

"We're just gonna stay right here," Elena says, her voice going lullaby soft.

It's this perfect tone, the perfect pitch to sooth. Sometimes Sam wonders if it's is the closest approximation to a Siren song that a human girl's voice can get. That's how effective it is on people.

"We're going to stay right here," Elena repeats. "You aren't going to look at any mirrors or glass, or anything with a reflective surface. She can't get to you."

Charlie sniffs.

"But we can't stay like this forever," she says mournfully. "I'm gonna die, aren't I?"

"No, not any time soon," Elena says, and this time her tone is firm and ringing, the voice she uses to speak words into truth.

Dean comes over then to sit down next to Elena.

"All right, Charlie, we need to know what happened."

Elena leans into Dean, just a little, but enough for Sam to see it.

"We were in the bathroom. Donna said it."

"That's not what we're talking about, Charlie," Elena says.

Dean continues for her.

"Something happened, didn't it? In your life. A secret where someone got hurt."

Charlie seems to realize that she has to tell them. She curls into Elena again.

Elena combs her fingers through her hair.

"Can you tell us about?" Elena asks, the lullaby voice back.

Charlie's mouth trembles.

"I had this boyfriend," she says finally. "I loved him. But he kinda scared me, too, you know? And one night at his house, we got in this fight. And I broke up with him, and he got upset. He said he needed me and he loved me. And he said… 'Charlie, if you walk out that door right now, I'm gonna kill myself.'" She pauses. "And you know what I said? I said, 'Go ahead.' And I left." She pauses again, holding her breath.

Finally she releases it, her words coming out in a rush, "How could I say that? How could I leave him like that? I just, I didn't believe him, you know?"

She looks at Elena for a long moment.

"I should have."

She buries her face back into Elena's shoulder, sobbing again.

* * *

It's decided through Dean and Elena's particular brand of telepathy that she will stay with Charlie while Dean and Sam go destroy the mirror.

Charlie shakes all over and she keeps clenching her eyes shut, tucking herself back into Elena's shoulder, unable to shake the feeling that she's going to start seeing something—someone—she shouldn't.

Elena gently unfolds herself from Charlie, goes over to her bags, rummaging around in them for a while.

"Here," Elena says, coming back to the bed with a scarf in her hands. "Let's try something."

Dutifully, Charlie lets Elena wrap the scarf around her face, blindfolding her.

"Lie down," Elena says, pressing gently on her shoulder. Charlie lies down and Elena positions herself so that Charlie's head is in her lap.

She starts to run her hands through her hair again, humming a little. She hums nonsense mostly, sometimes finds herself Metallica without meaning to.

She pauses her humming. "If you need to take it off, just say so, okay?" Elena tells Charlie.

Charlie nods.

"It's helping, I think," she says.

Elena goes back to humming.

After a while Charlie starts to relax.

She's just about on the brink of falling asleep when her mind plays a dirty trick and reminds her of the moment she saw Mary behind her in her teacher's glasses. Suddenly, she's afraid again. Just because she can't see her, doesn't mean Mary isn't there with them.

She shoots of the bed, ripping the scarf off her face. When she whirls around there is only Elena sitting on the bed, looking at her with sympathy.

"You can't see her, but that doesn't mean she's not here," Elena says, instantly understanding her terror.

Like a child, Charlie returns to her comforting embrace.

"She's here," she says into her shoulder, shaking again.

"She probably is," Elena agrees. "But she can't do anything to you without a reflective surface," she reminds her. "They're all covered up. Maybe she's here, but she has no power."

Charlie nods against her shoulder.

"She has no power," she repeats, trying to comfort herself.

After a while she sits up next to Elena.

She glances curiously over at the other girl.

"Are you afraid?" she asks.

Elena looks at her.

"She won't come after me," she says.

"That must be nice, not having blood on your hands," Charlie says wistfully. She bites her lip then, realizing that what she said could be considered rude.

Elena cocks her head to the side.

"Of course I have blood on my hands," she says, shocking Charlie. "It's just that it was never a secret that it was my fault people died."

Charlie stares at her, wide-eyed.

"Oh," she says in a small voice. "I'm sorry," she adds. "That was presumptuous of me."

Elena shrugs.

Silence descends. Charlie searches desperately for something to break it, but Mary lingers at the edge of all of her thoughts, and she can't imagine a single thing to say to this mysterious girl in front of her who has no bloody secrets because she wears the blood on her hands like a pair of perfectly fitted gloves.

Like she can read her mind, like she knows Charlie needs anything else to think about, Elena breaks the silence.

"Sometimes you pay for your sins," she says cryptically, staring at the wall. "And sometimes you pay for things about yourself that can't be helped. Parts of yourself that can't be changed."

Charlie stares at her.

Gathering her courage, she asks, "What do you mean?"

Elena looks at her finally.

"I was born cursed," she tells her. "It's in my blood."

Charlie blinks, wonders about this terrifying world of curses and folklore that runs parallel to what she'd always thought was the real world.

Elena's world is real too, as many tall tales that are told about it, there's a grain of truth in every one.

For a moment, Charlie studies the girl in front of her. She's beautiful, the most beautiful girl Charlie has ever seen, bar none. No movie star or reality diva or renaissance painting could compare.

Even Jill had said so, in their last phone call. She'd talked about the brothers' attractiveness, of course, but she'd wondered what girl who could make a model insecure was doing in a place like Ohio. Charlie wondered at the time, too. She ponders the question again.

"Is that why you do what you do?" she asks finally, referring to Elena's claim that the blood on her hands is a family curse.

Elena cocks her head to the side, considering her, then shakes her head.

'No, but I was born to do this too," she says.

Charlie gives her a curious look, as if to ask for more.

"No one ever tells you what it's like to be born for more than one thing," Elena says. "There are so many people you have to be, whether you want it or not. You can run, but you never stop being any of them. You never outrun them. You just waste time." She pauses.

"I don't know why they don't write stories about that, I'd read about it."

Charlies laughs a little, still a little confused.

"I'd read it, too," she says.

Elena smiles at her.

"I used to want to be a writer," she says.

Charlie cocks her head to the side.

"You could still write," she offers. "Write about what you do, people will think it's fiction."

Elena shakes her head.

"I don't want to call the truth fiction," she says. "I don't think people should be brought into this world if they don't have to be, but I don't want to call it a lie either."

Charlie nods in understanding.

Elena is quiet again, but this time Charlie has something else to think about.

Without detail, Elena has told her what she is, a cursed girl, and a born fighter. Right after, she told her what she used to want to be, what she'd given up because of who she was born to be. Charlie thinks about that sometimes, who she is because she's told she has to be that person, and who she wants to be, who she feels she was born to be.

Without meaning to, Charlie leans against Elena.

Elena puts an arm around her shoulders.

After a moment, Elena takes a breath, getting ready to speak.

"I know you probably don't want to talk about it," she starts. "But it wasn't your fault, what your boyfriend did."

Charlie holds her breath.

"I'm not going to give a lecture about abusive behavior or mental illness or anything like that," Elena says. "But we are all responsible for his own actions. What happened to him was a result of his own actions, not yours. He had no right to put that on you."

Charlie breathes out, searches for words, finds none. She puts her arms around Elena's waist, hugging her and breathing in the smell of her hair and skin, listens to the sound of her heartbeat.

'It wasn't your fault."

Charlie tightens her grip.

Elena falls silent after that.

They sit there together in silence for a long time.

When the boys get back, Charlie is asleep, curled up in Elena's lap.

Sam has a smear of blood across his cheek.

Dean has some flaking off of his chin.

* * *

The next day they drive Charlie home.

They pull up in front of her house, and Dean turns off the engine, both brothers turning back to look at her in the backseat next to Elena.

"So this is really over?" she asks

Dean nods. "Yeah, it's over."

She looks at all three of them, reaching out to squeeze Elena's hand.

"Thank you," she says to all of them.

Dean reaches out to squeeze her knee affectionately.

She smiles at him. She looks over at Elena, then tugs at her hand while she opens the door with her free one.

Elena nods in understanding and follows her out of the Impala to walk her to her door.

"Charlie," Sam calls after them suddenly.

They both turn back.

"Your boyfriend's death, you really should try to forgive yourself. No matter what you did, you probably couldn't have stopped it. Sometimes bad things just happen."

Charlie smiles at him, but doesn't say anything. She thinks about Sam, who says that bad things happen for no reason, and Elena who says that she was born cursed, and born to fight.

She's pretty sure they're both right.

Her and Elena continue to her door.

Once they're out of earshot, Dean smacks Sam in the shoulder.

Sam turns to look at him, startled.

"That's good advice," Dean says.

Sam just gives him a look, they both turn back towards Charlie's house to see what's holding Elena up.

Charlie is saying something to her, reaching out to hug her, and then she pulls a slip of paper out of her pocket, hands it to Elena.

Dean's mouth drops open.

"Did she just?" Dean asks, practically stuttering.

Sam laughs out loud, partially in disbelief and partially because Dean looks ridiculous.

"I think she just did," Sam says.

Charlie disappears inside and Elena starts to walk back to them, a slightly stunned look on her face.

She crawls back into the backseat.

"Did she just give you her number?" Sam asks, somewhat incredulously.

Elena nods, still more than a little shocked.

"What the hell happened in that motel room?" Dean asks.

Elena snaps out of it.

"Shut the hell up and drive, Winchester," Elena says, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Un-friggin'-believable," he mutters under his breath as he complies.

Sam laughs out loud again.

Dean is, without a doubt, jealous of the fact that a pretty little high school girl gave his Elena her number.

It's all fun and games and laughter, Dean teasing Elena, Elena teasing Dean, Sam laughing at both of them.

Charlie's little stunt is enough to make Dean forget to ask Sam about his secret, the secret Mary came after him for.

It's all fun and games until Sam sees Jess, blinding in white, on the corner of the street. She's gone before he can fully process her presence.

* * *

In her dream, Elena is the reflection in the mirror. The girl staring back at her tosses her perfect antebellum curls, cherry lips smirking around fangs, sucking blood from Elena's slender fingers.

Elena can only stare in horror at the monstrous girl, after all, she is only her reflection. The girl pirouettes into a girl with doe eyes, her prey eyes blinking at Elena from the right side of the mirror.

She smiles, teeth gleaming white, then she screams endlessly, her doll eyes blinking as her neck flops over, spewing blood, and smiling, smiling, smiling.

In the mirror, Elena drowns in their blood, older than the millennia between them.

Elena awakens suddenly.

She doesn't sit up, two years is long enough that she is aware of Dean asleep in bed beside her, even in her confused state. She gulps down air, shaking a little.

Her panicked breaths are the only sound in the dark motel room, Sam asleep for once.

Dean rolls over, and she stops breathing.

The room is dead silent now.

She knows he's awake.

He doesn't say anything, just opens his arms, waits patiently while she battles with herself.

She lists all the reasons she shouldn't, all the promises that say she won't. She gives in, curls into his arms, lets him press her against his chest, one hand splayed across her spine, the other cradling the back of her head with care.

She lets go as completely as she can without spilling her secrets into his waiting ears. She shakes all over, lets him hold her together, the physical act of holding becoming a metaphorical act all at once.

She tells herself that it's just that, the act of someone holding her, that she wants. Tells herself that it could be anyone, she's scared and half-asleep and she'd let anyone hold her right now. This isn't about him, this is about the act of comfort.

The truth: it's him.

She tells herself five more minutes, then another, then he falls asleep again, all without saying a word.

She's not shaking anymore, she's not even upset, she should move out of his arms and back to her side of the bed. She doesn't.

Tentatively, she pulls back just enough to see the curve of his face in the dim hallway light coming in through the curtain.

She thinks she knows this face better than she knows her own. She's stared down a woman who wears her face and she still doesn't see it on the insides of her eyelids like she sees his.

She's been diligently ignoring the rusty taste in her mouth since she woke up from her dream. Carefully her tongue prods her mouth, searching for sores, open wounds. She finds none. She swallows again and again, but all she tastes is blood, like drowning in her dreams.

Gently, she slips out of Dean's embrace, reaching for her running shoes.

 **AN: Chapter title is from Control by Halsey. All right so, I'm gonna start a new little thing, just for fun I'll tell you something about each song that I'm using for chapter titles in the end author's note. I'll go back and edit in the other ones when I'm slightly more lucid.**

 **I know Control is incredibly overused, especially in fandoms, but for me that doesn't detract from the power of the chorus one bit, I still get chills every time I hear it.**

 **Also, I just remembered, I have a oneshot I'm planning on posting Friday (fingers crossed) I'm telling you now in hopes that this will make me feel obligated to not forget or put it off again. It is Deanlena, and it is mostly done, I'm just an annoying perfectionist who can't stop tweaking things. I won't give too much away, but I will say that it has nothing to do with Addendum, and since I've spent so much time riding in the backseat of the Impala with Elena, I thought it would be fun to return to her original playground, so it takes place mostly in the tvd verse.**

 **Anyway, I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter, see you next Sunday for Skin. Questions? Comments? Please Review!**

 **xoxo**

 **-Pixie**


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